"Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. ” She nodded. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. 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. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue.
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