“I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. Never was there another girl like this one. The Supper at Mr. I always told you some accident would happen. “Sold again,” she remarked. 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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