You've often wondered how and where I lost these two digits.

Up there." The _Times_ rattled, and Cathewe became absorbed in the budget.
Arthur Cathewe was a tall, loose-limbed man, forty-two or three, rather handsome, and a bit shy with most folk.

Rarely any one saw him outside the club.

He had few intimates, but to these he was all that friendship means, kindly, tender, loyal, generous, self-effacing.

And Fitzgerald loved him best of all men.