To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. 196 Succeeded where she had not. S. 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.
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