Well, I don't blame you on that ground. ” “A—what?” Anna asked. If one wants a thing very much, perhaps one is inclined to think one can’t have it. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. 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. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. There was no one else in the doorway.
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