"If you'll write them, I'll illustrate them," observed Hogarth. " The hint was not lost upon Wood. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. Even WITH the Censorship of Plays there’s hardly a decent thing to which a man can take his wife and daughters, a creeping taint of suggestion everywhere. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. " "Well, think no more about it," returned Thames. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it.
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