son's.

Mary looked at the photograph and Crawford looked at her.

"Well, what do you think of him?" asked the young man after an interval.

"Think?" repeated Mary absently, still staring at the photograph. "Why,
I--I don't know what you mean."

"I mean what is your opinion of my respected dad? You must have one
by this time. You generally have one on most subjects and you've been
looking at that picture for at least five minutes."

"Have I? I beg your pardon; I didn't realize. The picture interested me.
I have never seen your father, have I? No, of course I haven't. But it
almost seems as if I had. Perhaps I have seen someone who looks like
him."

"Shouldn't wonder. Myself, for instance."

"Of course. That was stupid of me, wasn't it? He looks like an
interesting man, one who has had experiences."

"He has. Dad doesn't talk about himself much, even to me, but he had
some hard rubs before he reached the smooth places. Had to fight his
way, I guess."

"He looks as if he had. But he got his way in the end, I should imagine.
He doesn't look like one who gives up easily."