But the car did not start.

From the hedge beside the driveway, directly in front of the wheels, something on all fours threw itself upon the gravel; something in a suit of purple-gray; something torn and bleeding, smeared with sweat and dirt; something that cringed and crawled, that tried to rise and sank back upon its knees, lifting to the glare of the head-lights the white face and white hair of a very old, old man.

The kneeling figure sobbed; the sobs rising from far down in the pit of the stomach, wrenching the body like waves of nausea.

The man stretched his arms toward them.

From long disuse his voice cracked and broke.
"I'm done!" he sobbed.