EARLES, Strictly Private Every one stared at Anna. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. This Joan would hold them for a little. 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. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. The Ragged Edge.
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