” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. I should scarcely have known you. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. ” It was significant of her influence over him that he answered her calmly, although a storm of angry thoughts were struggling for expression within him.
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