He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. The water was cold but she waded deeper. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you.
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