There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. And me, I wish to know why you have seen him. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses.
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