There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. "How?" cried her brother, starting. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. 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. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand.
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