He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. ‘That is, if she’s gone that way. He would always be her friend, too. ” It was certain that he was not there. 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. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence.
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