‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. The guineas are not for serving your mistress. "How do you know that?" rejoined Jack. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. You've got me interested and curious. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. He was not there.
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