But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. 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. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. It was locked. Come and see him, Lucia. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred.
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