Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. “Eight, Cavendish Square. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. Bought the freedom of a sing-song girl; and all the while you knew you'd have to tote the girl back. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. “You know nothing about the stage. . ” “I am delighted to see you all here,” Anna said smiling upon them from behind the tea-tray, “but I shall have to ask you to excuse me for a few minutes. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill.
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