Part 8
And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to
run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her
skin. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I
think he's called. "To-morrow it will be mine. He was accompanied by a young man of about
seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon
it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him
the most assiduous attention. "Be silent," said Jonathan, striding deliberately into the room; "these cries will
avail you nothing. "So I have," replied Hogarth, glancing at Sheppard. She did not forge a note. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would
have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the
skilful artist.
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