It never is. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. 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. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology.
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