Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. 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. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. "Put it in your teeth and light it. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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