“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. “Great, Cathy. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest.
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