“Just the old man, uncomfortable, apprehensive as he let him in, a little frail as he showed the way into the enormous living room. Ceilings at least twenty feet high, Lockwood judged. High ceilings should cool a room down, but the place was still oppressively hot, even with half-a-dozen fans going. It looked as if it were going to be a bad summer. “Drink?” Grand asked, moving to the cocktail bar. “Irish and soda if you’ve got it,” Lockwood requested, and waited as Mack Grand ploddingly ...went through the motions. He was a small man, maybe five foot six inches, Lockwood judged, stocky, without suggesting either fat or strength, and bald, fluffs of white circling the large bare spot at the top of his head. However, his eyes were aware, and his lips full and sensual, as if whatever power that had once been contained in that body had retreated to those few inches between chin and forehead. “Cheers,” Grand toasted mechanically, after handing one of the glasses to Lockwood.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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