He'll worry no more, poor old chap, about my past or my
future. This is the turning-point of our fortunes. Don't look so glum,
man. Here--hit the demijohn again."
But the 'Bishop' declined this invitation, and betook himself to his
blankets, muttering inarticulate nothings. Dick relighted his pipe,
and refilled his glass. Then he walked to the mantelshelf and gazed
long and critically at three framed photographs of his father and two
sisters. These were almost the only property he possessed. It is
significant from an ethical point of view that Dick kept these
pictures where he could see them. The 'Bishop' had photos also, but
they lay snug at the bottom of an old portmanteau. His reverence was
sensible that he was not worthy to keep company with even the pictures
of honourable and respectable persons. No such qualms affected Dick.
He regarded these photos as credentials. His father had a charming
face--one of those human documents whereon are inscribed honour,
culture, benevolence, and the wisdom that is not of this world. The
sisters, too, had comely features; and strangers introduced to the
family group always felt more kindly disposed to the prodigal so far
from such nice people.
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