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He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. " "I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. The Iron Bar. She loved to dress the Fritz and Anna in outfits that she stitched from discarded velvet dresses. Tol-de-rol!" As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and Thames sprang through the aperture.
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