“Vee,” she said, “come home. He is here by your side. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. 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. "You hear that," cried Mrs. ’ His colour deepened. So was I, in fact. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember.
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