For a moment, a moment of hesitation, he held it out at arm's length.
The sunlight of the afternoon blazed into the glass and turned the liquid to molten gold.
The light came from a window in the roof, just over the bar itself. The remainder of the room was in quiet shadow.
He looked down into the room and shuddered. It was typical of his life now.
He looked up at the half open window from which the glory came.
"Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!" he said, with a sad smile.
Molly Palmer watched him. "Juggins!" she thought, "them poets!"
But Lothian's words seemed to call for some rejoinder and the girl was at a loss.
"Wish you meant it!" she said at length, wondering if that would meet the occasion—as it often met others.
Lothian laughed, and drank down the whiskey.