human
My mother at five-and-twenty, said Mr. Wilding to himself, as his eyes enthusiastically followed the light to the portrait's face,
gpt
I hang up here, in order that visitors may admire my mother in the bloom of her youth and beauty. My mother at fifty I hang in the seclusion of my own chamber, as a remembrance sacred to me. O! It's you, Jarvis!
human
Yes, sir. I merely wished to mention that it's gone ten, sir, and that there are several females in the Counting-house.
gpt
Dear me! said the wine-merchant, deepening in the pink of his complexion and whitening in the white,