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. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. “Some day,” she answered. "You must be a cleverer lad than even I take you for, if you get out of this place. I can't help looking at you frequently. ” “You like me?” “Yes. " "Here!" ejaculated Wood, with a look of alarm. . It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. You’re tired, of course.
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