It was a haunted place. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. 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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