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''is a grave expression to his face. His eyes are full of a quick-tempered sensitiveness. He does not noticeably resemble his mother. He looks nothing at all like his father. He seems to have sprung from a line distinct from any of the people we have seen''.

''has aged greatly. His hair is streaked with gray. He has grown stout. His face is a bit jowly and puffy under the eyes. The features have become blurred. He has the look of a man with no definite aim or ambition to which he can relate his living. His eyes are embittered and they hide his inner self-resentment behind a pose of cynical indifference''.

[Thinking as he plays—resentfully]

I wish Darrell’d get out of here! why couldn’t Mother let me run my own birthday? I’d never had him here, you bet! what’s he always hanging ’round for? why don’t he go off on one of his old trips again last time he was gone more’n a year  I was hoping he’d died! what makes Mother like him so much? she makes me sick! I’d think she’d get sick of the old fool and tell him to get out and never come back! I’d kick him out if I was big enough! it’s good for him he didn’t bring me any birthday present or I’d smash it first chance I got!

[Watching him—brooding with loving tenderness—sadly]

No longer my baby my little man  eleven  I can’t believe it  I’m thirty-five  five years