He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. I offered him a hundred to watch Spurlock. 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. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. " "Not now," returned Thames, impatiently. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. “It’s the warming up of the year, the coming of the light mornings, the way in which everything begins to run about and begin new things.
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