“You!” she exclaimed. She broke a cobblestone over his head and he was out. “How well and jolly you must be feeling. 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. “Yes. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much.
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