‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. I said to myself, ‘this will come. ” John’s father, Thomas, strode into the front hall at that moment in his golf clothes. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. 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.
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