He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. As the wedding neared, she bought some finer things: a veal roast for supper, a single pearl for the dowry. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. 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.
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