She pushed. Keep your eye upon the lad. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. “This is all very well,” she said, “but two out of the three are rank deserters— and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad.
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