” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. 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. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. ‘I’m a soldier, missie.
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