He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. " "I could make a fine sketch of him now," whispered Hogarth to Gay. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. "What is it?" "The night," she answered.
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