'And I suppose you never drop in for a pipe at "The Three Tuns" now of an evening?'
'No! I haven't been near the place these many years.'
'Poor old fellow! The Bass is superb at present.
I recollected. 'Won't you have some wine with me?' I said. 'I have some fine old Chianti. And take a cigar?'
'No, thanks, old man. I'm too sad. Come with me to "The Three Tuns," and let's have an honest pint and an honest pipe together. I don't care about cigars. Come to-night. Let's make a night of it. We'll begin at "The Three Tuns," then call at "The Blue Posts," look in at "The Dog and Fire-irons," and finish up at "The Shakespeare's Head." What was it we used to troll?—
'From tavern to tavern
Youth passes along,
With an armful of girl
And a heart-full of song.'
'Hush!' I cried in terror; 'it is impossible. I cannot. Come to my club instead.' But he shook his head.
I persuaded him to have some Chianti at last, but he drank it without spirit, and thus we sat far into the night talking of old days.
Before he went I made him a definite offer—he must have bewitched me, I am sure—I offered him no less than £5000 and a share in the business for the sprig of almond-blossom the ridiculous young pagan carried in his hat.
And will you believe me? He declined the offer.