Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. "Oh! you did, did you?" said the janizary. "I'm never satisfied with a first attempt. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. Go back at once, please. “A serious question. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
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