Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. " "But you can imagine it.
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