’ Gerald grinned. 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. "Why? Because I love her! Because I loved her at the start, but was too big a fool to know it!" His own astonishment was quite equal to McClintock's. “Sir John is not at all that sort. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully.
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