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8. A common rage flushed their faces. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. “I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Wood required little pressing.
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