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. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. You hurt the child. org. ’ That arrested her. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs.
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