Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. "It's more than I am," muttered Thames. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. Can you come over?” “I think so. Happy Thanksgiving. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. E.
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