There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. Spurling. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
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