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. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. In that case I'll help you.
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