” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. "I see," rejoined Hogarth, rapidly sketching a file, which he placed in the hands of the picture. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Jeremiah Jackson, and Mr. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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