Any man embroiders sordid fact on occasion." "On occasion!" admitted Garry.
Kenny, with his eye upon the fern in the window, missed the significance.

It had registered his sincere regret--that fern--at the need of pawning Brian's fishing rods and golf clubs.

Like Brian! He had failed utterly to comprehend the delicacy of the tribute.
Finding this point upon which he dwelt with some length equally over-nice for Garry's perception, Kenny in a huff sent him home, watered the fern, without in the least understanding the impulse, and went to bed.

And dreaming as usual, he seemed to be hunting cobwebs with a gun made of ferns.

He found them draped over huge pillars of ice, marked in Brian's familiar sunset colors.