” “Yes, it is. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him.
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