" "My negligence, Mr. ” He was intrigued. "You read it, Ruth. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. ’ ‘How exciting. I am a murderer. “More than that, he arrived to-day at the boarding-house where I am staying, greeted me with a theatrical start, and claimed me—as his wife. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. She led him up the long hall solemnly. " "What do you think of my sketch, Jack?" said Hogarth, handing him the drawing.
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