Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. ‘Then I don’t advise you to visit Remenham House. E. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. “Pray accept my apologies. 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. "Why do you laugh?" he asked.
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