"My portrait!" echoed Jack. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. " "You may spare me your compassion, friend," observed Thames; "I am falsely detained. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. His statement was treated with derision. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her.
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