Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. “I have a message from your sister. 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. You're in luck to-night, widow. ” She shook her head gently. " Darrell returned no answer. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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