Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. " "Nay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, "I shan't hinder you. 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. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. ’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald, retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me to a duel again. "What in the world is it?" he asked.
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