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. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. In rushed Mr. Goodbye. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus.
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