"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. She was gone. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. And empty. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable.
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