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. I do—with all my heart. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. Farewell. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities.
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