Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. "I declare you throw me into an ague. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. "I'd rather you went over the last four chapters, which I haven't polished yet.
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