“Capital!” said Mr. Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box.
“Glass of wine?”
“With the greatest pleasure.”
“You’d better have a bottle to yourself up there, hadn’t you?”
“You’re very good.”
“Joe!”
“Yes, sir.” (He wasn’t asleep this time, having just succeeded in abstracting a veal patty.)
“Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, sir.”
“Thankee.” Mr. Winkle emptied his glass, and placed the bottle on the coach-box by his side.