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Of course there are, millions of them. 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. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. . Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. You don’t understand. No other man should touch her; she was Hoddy's, body and soul, in this life and after.
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