But it was hopelessly hard to put. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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