Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. 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. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. I have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments. I’m a little tired. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch. Only she hadn’t. These interests her world promptly, through the agency of schoolmistresses, older school-mates, her aunt, and a number of other responsible and authoritative people, assured her she must on no account think about. pgdp. 148 “Sure.
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