Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. 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. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. "However, I will be there. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. ’ ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. I tried it myself, Sir.
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