She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. 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. Lucy wore it every day from then on.
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