I can't invent; the thing won't come. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. "No," replied Hogarth, hastily effacing the sketch. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. He was just as much a greater master than any other I ever saw, as he was a greater judge of time and measure.
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