A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. 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. Lucy sat beside him. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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