As time went on, she began to think Martha had been mistaken. 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. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. ‘Melusine…Melusine. ” “But what have I done?” “Elope! Go off in this way. However, come along. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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