“Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight,” he admitted. She met him by the dugout after the game. More than ever a sense of confusion was upon Ennison. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. He felt no pain from this cowardly kick. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. Who was he?” “Intriguing. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain.
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