“I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes’ conversation with you, Miss Pellissier. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. But all of that was forgotten. 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. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet.
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