Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. Sebastian slowed the car after they had traveled seventy miles into the countryside. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. Nice goings on. I want you to turn me. 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.
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