He even
had a man to help him dress. He is cultured and intellectual, and bright
and witty, and clean and good-natured, possessing, in fact, all the
qualifications of a desirable lap dog, and you can't help liking him,
just as you would like a pretty, useless pet."
Stanford chuckled. She had described Lawrence Knight so accurately.
"Poor old Larry," he said. "What a man he might have been if he had not
been so pampered and petted and envied and spoiled, all because of his
father's money. His heart is right, and at the bottom he has the right
sort of stuff in him. His athletic record at school showed us that. I
think that was why we all liked him so in spite of his uselessness."
"I wish you could have known my father, Stan," said Helen thoughtfully,
as though she, too, were moved to speak by the wish that her mate might
know more of the things that had touched her deeper life.
"I wish so, too," he answered. "I know that he must have been fine."
"He was my ideal," she answered softly. "My other ideal, I mean. From
the time I was a slip of a girl he made me his chum. Until he died we
were always together. Mother died when I was a baby, you know.
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