But the antiques were the only thing that his eyes sought out. Behind the counter was on old man, wearing a worn out robe, carefully bent over cleanin... a dark wooden box, seeming not to have even noticed Donald's entrance. Donald smiled faintly at this. This eccentric geezer probably found all this stuff in his attic, Donald told himself. Probably doesn't even know its value. He chuckled silently to himself, thinking cheap he was going to get these valuable antiques. And that senile looking old. I..." Forget it. Fred doesn't mind."Quinton sighed, finally remembering the piece of cake before him. Taking up his fork, he took a bite while wondering whether he should confide in this man whom he didn't know very well. Somehow, though, he felt as if he had known Jeff all his life, and ... trusted him. He had always had the ability to tell when someone was lying to him, and with that went the sure knowledge whether to trust someone or not."Jeff, this is personal, and well, I guess I don't. More

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