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Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. He thrust into her slowly at first, astonished at the natural amount of resistance and unexpected friction which nearly drove him to come instantaneously. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. This young man, whose features, though rather plain and coarse, bore the strongest impress of genius, and who had a dark gray, penetrating eye, so quick in its glances that it seemed to survey twenty objects at once, and yet only to fasten upon one, bore the honoured name of William Hogarth. "I believe he is conscious," she answered. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. “I am a fool,” he said. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play.

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