“May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. “It’s precious unromantic. But it's an odd case. “Yes. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. But today Melusine’s new-found knowledge put Martha at a disadvantage. He got up. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. There were two. Twenty guineas, mind.
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