Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. 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. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn.
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