I admired your chivalry. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. 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 wonder. Then the storm broke. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions.
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