Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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