There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train.
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