"That's precisely the wherefore of this coal dust. On your way!"

Eleven o'clock. Kitty was in the kitchen, without light, her chair
by the window, which she had thrown up. She had gone to bed, but
sleep was impossible. So she decided to watch the Gregor windows.
Sometimes the mind is like a movie camera set for a double exposure.
The whole scene is visible, but the camera sees only half of it.
Thus, while she saw the windows across the court there entered the
other side of her mind a picture of the immaculate Cutty crossing
the platform with Johnny Two-Hawks thrown over his shoulder. The
mental picture obscured the actual.

She had called him old. Well, he was old. And no doubt he looked
upon her as a child, wanting her to spend the night at a hotel! The
affair was over. No one would bother Kitty Conover. Why should
they? But it took strength to shoulder a man like that. What fun
he and her father must have had together! And Cutty had loved her
mother! That made Kitty exquisitely tender for a moment. All
alone, at the age when new friendships were impossible. A lovable
man like that going down through life alone!

Census taker of alien undesirables; a queer occupation for a man so
famous as Cutty. Patriotism - to plunge into that seething
revolutionary scum to sort the dangerous madmen from the harmless
mad-men. Courage and strength and mental resource; yes, Cutty
possessed these; and he would be the kind to laugh at a joke or a
hurt.

One thing, however, was indelibly printed on her mind. Stefani
Gregor - either Cutty had met and known the man or he had heard of