He likes to feel that they have the impress of himself, you see.

Rigid surveillance, or the appearance of it, would irk him.

For a long time it annoyed me that he preferred his imprint to mine.

A pile of pamphlets on the carpet within easy reach of his chair was a grievance; his boxing gloves were an eyesore when left upon his table, and he _might_ find some other place for his dumb-bells than the exact middle of the room.

Then, by degrees, I thought my way to the stable verity whereupon I now rest, that _the boy is worth more than the room_.".