’ Gerald eyed her with interest. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. Say something. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation.
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