The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. ’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. 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.
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