“More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Her faith in human beings revived. 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. " "I remember now!" interrupted McClintock. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. Her eyes where glassy and shining. She had never thought of him at all in that way before.
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