” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Never mind. He lowered himself onto her and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. He wants you so, he is still a virgin. "That's a good story, lad.
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