"It's like nectar," said Mole, draining his glass.
Gray agreed that good whisky was hard to get, and confessed that he had tried many sorts in his time. He didn't drink it regularly, but liked it good when he did have it.
"I drink nothing else but 'Tommy,'" said Mole, in confidence; "and I carry it with me always. I've just been round the country, and have run out of it till I get home. Got heaps at home, my brother-in-law is a partner in the firm."
"I must try a bottle," said Gray; "where's the London office?"
"No," said Mole, lifting his hand; "I introduced it. You must allow me to send you a bottle free. Try that, and if you like it, order as many bottles as you please."
Gray and Mole parted with enthusiasm, Mole promising to send a bottle of "Tommy Morgan" to the address given him. Mole could not be certain when they would next meet, as he was off to Liverpool and Ireland the next day, and might be travelling for months.
"Lucky meeting that," said Gray, as he went back to the office.
"What sort of man was he?" said Mrs. Gray, when she heard of the affable stranger. "Not very nice really I should think. Seems to me rather unlucky to meet a man named Mole on a Friday."
