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'd rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened. He thought for a moment, and went on: “Love is something that has to be taken care of. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out.
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