"Gimpy Gordon's meandering mind is well understood for what it is," he said.
Gimpy Gordon scuttled out of my bailiwick almost on a dead run.
Gimpy looked at Barcelona's stormy face and he grew frightened.
Two of the boys, "Gimpy" and Lem, were conferring aside in an undertone.
Gimpy smiled a little disdainfully at the credulity of the “kids.”
He had a bit of a gimpy leg, a limp she could spot even from here.
Gimpy drew forth from his stocking a very able-bodied baseball bat and considered it with a stunned look.
Through the peaceful breathing of the boys all about him, Gimpy, alone wakeful, heard the deep bass of the troubled sea.
Something that was not of the tenement, something vital, with which his old life had no concern, welled up in Gimpy at the touch.
How should Gimpy know that he was at that moment leading another struggling soul by the hand toward the light that never dies?
