She knew it. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. It is not so. ” She swept out of the room. “But your hair,” he gasped. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. I too can see it.
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