We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. This year—I’ve got it badly. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. 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. Taking the opposite course from that which he had hitherto pursued when it has been necessary to attend him in his visits to the lower part of his premises, he struck into a narrow passage on the right, which he tracked till he came to a small door, like the approach to a vault. And Capes had changed into the easiest and jolliest companion in the world.
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