No! He calls me--Kenny!" Garry laughed aloud at the wrathful search for grievance.

It was not always easy to remember that Kenny had eloped at twenty with the young wife who had died when his son was born; and that his son was twenty-three.
"Go on," said Kenny.

"Laugh your fool head off.

I'm merely stating facts." "As for his tennis racquet," reminded Garry, and Kenny flushed.
It developed that of studio things the racquet and the shotgun had seemed the least essential.

And the need had been imperative.
"Nevertheless," interposed Garry, "they and a number of other things you pawned were Brian's." Moreover, reverting to the fishing rods and golf clubs, Kenny would like to have them both remember that it had been winter and one can redeem most anything by summer.