You’ve got to take what you can get. She stared. It is dull—deadly dull. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room.
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