But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. Now I do. 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. The clock struck half-past ten. “Afterwards,” she said, “I should be perfectly content to have everything done for me.
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