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At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. Guns were impossible.
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