His brows drew a little nearer together. “To the best of my belief, I have never seen the man in my life. It was decrepit and too large. 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. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do.
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