"Oh, well, then, let's have some Benedictine with the coffee!" said Esther.
"I've thought of something better, more 'sacramental,'" said Henry, smiling, "but you couldn't conscientiously drink it with me. It's the red drink of perfect love. Will you drink it with me?"
"Of course I will."
So the waiter brought a bottle bearing the beautiful words, "Parfait Amour."
"It's like blood," said Esther; "it makes me a little frightened."
"Would you rather not drink it?" asked Henry. "You know if you drink it with me, you must drink it with no one else. It is the law of it that we can only drink it with one."
"Not even with Mike?"
"Not even with Mike."
"What of Angel?"
"I will drink it with no one but you as long as I live."