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. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. But now confound it! how can you prevent it? I will kiss you. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers.
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