What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. ‘Hilary was right. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision.
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