It was like old times, and I sank down next to him again. “I met him at Georg’s—”
“Gay what?”
“Georg, Granddad. It’s the German pronunciation of George.”
“Humph.” He beetled his brows at me, and I couldn’t help smiling. “So what’s this Georg? A club?”
“No; it’s the shop I worked in.”
“Just a second, young man! What do you mean work?”
“Granddad, if I wanted to eat and have clothes without holes in them, I needed a job.”
“Why?” There was steel in his tone, and I looked into his faded blue eyes, puzzled.
“What do you mean, ‘why’? I didn’t have access to my trust fund, and Sir stopped paying my tuition.”
“He what?” He folded his lips into a thin line, and I was about to ask if he was in pain, if I should call for that nurse, when he said, “I’m so very sorry, Kipp. You needed me, and I
