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” “Don’t say that,” Sydney begged. Politely Ah Cum stooped and recovered the photograph. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. " In the living room Spurlock's glance was constantly drawn toward Ruth; but in fear that she might sense something wrong, he walked over to the piano and struck a few chords. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. 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.
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