"Your faults were the faults of circumstances. 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. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. It would be easy enough for me to write an eloquent letter about something else. " "Readily.
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