" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. The doctor frowned. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling.
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