"There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. Nigel! You have not forgotten. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. It is generally deficient in the qualities it prides itself upon most. " After narrowly examining the countenance of the sitter, and motioning him with his pencil into a particular attitude, Sir James Thornhill commenced operations; and, while he rapidly transferred his lineaments to the canvass, engaged him in conversation, in the course of which he artfully contrived to draw him into a recital of his adventures. “What? She replied, still hazy.
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