"'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. Lucy wore it every day from then on. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story.
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