Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. "His lordship desires me to say—ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead.
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