" "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. . You care for me just a little, I know. I am far too much the gentleman. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. "If you'll write them, I'll illustrate them," observed Hogarth.
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