Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again.
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