8 or 1. 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. “It’s his birthday. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. . It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. ” Courtlaw seemed about to say something.
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