I fished and, shot and sailed and loafed, losing ambition and self-respect, aware that the majority of the village people considered me too lazy to earn a living, and caring little for their opinion.

At first I had kept up a hit or miss correspondence with one or two of my associates in the bank, but after a while I dropped even this connection with the world.

I was ashamed to have my former acquaintances know what I had become, and they, apparently, were quite willing to forget me.

I expected to live and die in Denboro, and I faced the prospect with indifference.
The summer people, cottagers and boarders, I avoided altogether and my only friend, and I did not consider him that, was George Taylor, the Denboro bank cashier.

He was fond of salt-water and out-door sports and we, occasionally enjoyed them together.
Thanks to the lawyer, our names had been scarcely mentioned in the papers at the time of my father's death.