But there was a glory in his heart because of a new and sharpened sensitivity. He was alone and friendless and almost without funds, yet he had never before felt so able, so competent.
While stalking the streets of Delhi looking for a cheap hotel, he heard a cheerful voice calling his name. He turned. The voice came from a car at the curb. A brand new Ford convertible. Lee spoke casually. "How are you, Mr. Clifford?"
The meeting was as strange and illogical as all the other events and incidents of Lee's life had been since he had lain in a New York City gutter.
Mr. Clifford smiled warmly. "Mr. Hayden—I'm glad to see you."
"A real surprise," Lee said.
"How have you been?"
"Fine—just fine."
"Taking a little trip, I see."
"Yes. Getting around a little. Seeing the world."
A mad conversation in the light of the questions he had for Mr. Clifford; and the things Mr. Clifford could logically have had to tell him.