” Lucy said softly. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind.
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