“Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. 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. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves.
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