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 leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes.
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