The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. The doctor drew out the contents hopefully. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. It was better even than the hymn-singing. . You must wait till supper's over. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. . .
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