What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. There was a black fear in his heart. " "Oh, it's a part of the game," said McClintock.
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