He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. ” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. She paused. ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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