His brows drew a little nearer together. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. “She thinks that Missy is trying to turn me into a punk or a Goth. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready.
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