An hour later Margaret Fenn came pedaling into the town from the countryroad, all smiling and breathless and red lipped, and full of color. As sheturned into her own street she met her husband, immaculately dressed. He bowedwith great punctiliousness and lifting his hat high from his head smiled asearch-light of a smile that frightened his wife. But he spoke no word to her.Five minutes later, as Tom Van Dorn wheeled out of Market Street, he also saw208Henry Fenn,standing in the middle of the crossing leering at him and laughing a drunken,foolish, noisy laugh. Van Dorn called back but Fenn did not reply, and the Judgesaw nothing in the figure but his drunken friend standing in the middle of thestreet laughing.
The next day little boys followed Henry Fenn about the streets laughing;Henry Fenn, drunken and debased, whose heart was bleeding. It was late in theafternoon when he appeared in the Amen Corner. His shooting stars were allexploded from their rocket and he was fading into the charred papier-mche ofthe reaction that comes from over exhilaration. So he sat on the walnut bench,back of the newspaper counter with his hands on his knees and his eyes staringat the floor while traffic flowed through the establishment oblivious to hispresence. Mr. Brotherton watched Fenn but did not try to make him talk. Therecame a time when trade was slack that Fenn looked for a minute fixedly at Mr.Brotherton, and finally said, shaking his head sadly:
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