I do not think I even wanted to hope.

It was enough to know that so bright a thing was in the world, for at one stroke my drab horizon seemed to have broadened into the infinite heavens.
The song ended in another chorus of "Bravas." "Bring twenty candles, Pompey," my host called out, "and the great punch-bowl.

We will pledge my lady in the old Beverley brew." Servants set on the table a massive silver dish, into which sundry bottles of wine and spirits were poured.

A mass of cut fruit and sugar was added, and the whole was set alight, and leaped almost to the ceiling in a blue flame.

Colonel Beverley, with a long ladle, filled the array of glasses on a salver, which the servants carried round to the guests.