It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. 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. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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