They are their mother’s sons. “Damned Rascal!” he said. She entered the room in the shadows. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. I know something about men. Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. B.
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