"So I have," replied Hogarth, glancing at Sheppard. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him.
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