He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself.
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