He was asleep. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners.
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