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. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. She expanded that. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. ” Anna looked at her sister gravely.
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