‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. 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. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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