Something seemed awry. And nowhere could I obtain the slightest information. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. "Don't exchange glances with him under my very nose, woman!" shrieked Mrs. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem.
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