Michelle was too polite to put it into words. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. His food lay untouched about his plate. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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