But his memory of former visits was scrupulously photographic--phonographic even.

He recalled from the past certain effects once keenly joyed in that now made his cheeks burn.

The things rioted brutally before him, until it seemed that something inside of him strove to suppress them--as if a shamed hand reached out from his heart to brush the whole offense into decent hiding with one quick sweep.
This time he took care that Nancy should not meet his father.

Yet he walked the streets with him as before--walking defiantly and with shame those streets through which he had once led the perfect father in festal parade, to receive the applause of a respectful populace.

Now he went forth awkwardly, doggedly, keen for signs that others saw what he did, and quick to burn with bitter, unreasoning resentment, when he detected that they did so.