Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. “I am a fool,” he said. She looked about, watching a massive green storm cloud building in the west. 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.
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