"What's that?" she suddenly cried, pointing to the contents of a jug.
"It's beer, ma'am," answered Catherine. "That stupid girl drew as much as if Richard and Thérèse had been at home. Maybe Thérèse will be in yet for supper."
"Give me a glass of it. I am thirsty."
Again old Catherine hesitated. Malt liquor had been expressly forbidden to Mrs. Verner. It made her cough frightfully.
"You know, ma'am, the doctors have said—"
"Will you hold your tongue? And give me what I require? You are as bad as Mr. Verner."
Catherine reached a tumbler, poured it half full, and handed it. Mrs. Verner did not take it.
"Fill it," she said.
So old Catherine, much against her will, had to fill it, and Sibylla drained the glass to the very bottom. In truth, she was continually thirsty; she seemed to have a perpetual inward fever upon her. Her shoulders were shivering as she set down the glass.
"Go and find my opera cloak, Catherine. It must have dropped on the stairs, I know I put it on as I left my room."