" "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. I am a little afraid. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. This young man, whose features, though rather plain and coarse, bore the strongest impress of genius, and who had a dark gray, penetrating eye, so quick in its glances that it seemed to survey twenty objects at once, and yet only to fasten upon one, bore the honoured name of William Hogarth. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love.
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