Least of all myself. 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. IX. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. Will you not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my place by your side. That knot also would be cut. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. . . Meanwhile, the excitement of the chase had in some degree subsided. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully.
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