He could put his arm about his uncle's neck as he would about his mother's and not be thought effeminate or childish.

And the courtesy and dignity and fairness with which he had been treated; and the respect St.George showed him--and he only a boy: compelling his older men friends to do the same.

Never letting him feel that any foolish act of his young life had been criticised, or that any one had ever thought the less of him because of them.
Breakfast over, during which no allusion was made either to what St.
George had accomplished at the conference of creditors the night before, or to Harry's early rising--the boy made his way into the park and took the path he loved.

It was autumn, and the mild morning air bespoke an Indian summer day.

Passing beneath the lusty magnolias, which flaunted here and there their glossy leaves, he paused under one of the big oaks, whose branches, stripped of most of their foliage, still sheltered a small, vine-covered arbor where he and Kate had often sat--indeed, it was within its cool shade that he had first told her of his love.