"That's a good idea; the presiding gentleman who makes the drinks is an artist. The mingled science and art with which he compounds whimsical beverages is wonderful. Half of him seems impulse and nervous force as he rattles the pounded ice and flourishes the glasses, while the other half looks in and puts the finishing touches."
"You talk nonsense very pleasantly," said Mr. Jones. "What will you have?"
"Oh! a sherry cobbler, please, with straws."
"Are you a connoisseur in drinks?"
"Not yet; I hope to be."
"I will take you to a place where you may learn."
"Please do; drinks are more than a cult, they are a science. To a man I knew at Oxford they were a religion." He was thinking of Condamine.
"There are so many religions nowadays."
"Yes; the sham of yesterday takes an alias and calls itself the religion of the future."
"I hate the faddist."