CHAPTER XV. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries.
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