He looked back for his best days.
They were not now: they were the days before fame had come; fame, the Betrayer, that like a roaring breaker lifts a man heavenwards, and before he can clutch his star, has smashed him on the beach.
The boy recalled his first indelible impression—that the hero was a disappointed man.
Disappointed of what?—he, young still, crowned with glory, queens at his feet, nations worshipping him.
Could it be of happiness?
"I have a message for you from another friend of those days, my lord."
"Who's that?"
"Commander Harding."
A darkness chilled the other's face.
"Well."