" "And now, father, your blessing—your consent!" cried Thames. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. "Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Practically. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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