His tone was rough, almost threatening. Terrific yells rent the air. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. 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. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step.
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