The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. 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. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity.
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