Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. Montague Hill is. He kissed her deeply and hungrily. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room.
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