Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. “I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. Rummage, my boy, do. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house.
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