"George!" Toffee said. "You remember good old George?"
Marc nodded vigorously. "Wouldn't he be just crazy about whiskey like this?"
"He certainly would. Crazy mad, he'd be. Isn't it too bad he's not here?" Then Toffee brightened. "But perhaps he is! You never can tell about good old George."
"But when we were talking to him earlier he didn't answer."
"Perhaps he misunderstood something one of us said," Toffee suggested. "Maybe he didn't understand our type of humor and got offended. You know, like when I said I was going to gouge his eyes out? A harmless remark to most people, but perhaps not so to good old George."
"True," Marc said sagely. "George always was sensitive." He glanced around the room. "George?" he called. "If you're here, old man, how about having a drink with us? If we said anything to hurt your feelings we certainly didn't mean to."
He paused to listen. There was a hesitant shuffling across the room.
"Well ..." a voice said uneasily.
Marc and Toffee exchanged glances of triumph.
"You mustn't miss out on this, old man," Marc cajoled. "You really mustn't."