‘That’s why I’m asking. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring.
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