" "Jack," replied Thames, greatly moved, "I wish I could devise any means of brightening your own dark prospects. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Wood resounded from below. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. I've delivered Jack Sheppard from many an assault. 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. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned.
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