" "I hope they are, Sir," answered Mrs. "I see," rejoined Hogarth, rapidly sketching a file, which he placed in the hands of the picture. Little more’n a week. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head.
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