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. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. Petite build, like herself.
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