For the first time he perceived that there was a perfect freedom in the choice of beverage. He bowed, drained his glass, and sat down.
"Oh, Dopey McNab, have we your eye?"
"You certainly have, boys, and I'm no one-eyed man at that," said McNab, jovially disappearing down a mug, while the room in chorus trolled out:
"Drink the wine divine
As long as you can stand it.
Hand the bowl around
As long as you can hand it.
Drink your glass,
Drink your glass,
Dri-i-i-i-ink—he's drunk it down."