He sipped it, bending forward as far as he could, his
napkin tucked in over his shirt-front like a bib. He got the bouquet of
that sherry to a T--his sense of smell was very keen to-night; rare old
stuff it was--more than a year since he had tasted it--but no one drank
sherry nowadays, hadn't the constitution for it! The fish came up,
and went down; and with the sweetbread he took his second glass of
champagne. Always the best, that second glass--the stomach well warmed,
and the palate not yet dulled. Umm! So that fellow thought he had him
beaten, did he? And he said suddenly:
"The fur coat in the wardrobe, I've no use for it. You can take it away
to-night."
With tempered gratitude the valet answered:
"Thank you, sir; much obliged, I'm sure." So the old buffer had found
out there was moth in it!
"Have I worried you much?"
"No, sir; not at all, sir--that is, no more than reason."
"Afraid I have. Very sorry--can't help it. You'll find that, when you
get like me."
"Yes, sir; I've always admired your pluck, sir.
"Um! Very good of you to say so."
"Always think of you keepin' the flag flying', sir."
Old Heythorp bent his body from the waist.
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