I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. ” There was a moment’s silence. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress.
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