She understood. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. 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. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. . She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile.
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