la Mike Muldoon.
The wines, with their soft suggestion and insinuating succession, soon led them up to the point where Fred felt that he “had his man about right.”
The shame-faced Potter, with his mandatory billets from “She,” burning under his waistcoat, soon mumbled several iron-clad excuses of unnecessary mendacity about “seeing a man,” and then gladly escaped, hustling himself into the hack with all the fond expectancy of a man who bought quite unnecessary diamond necklaces loyally and cheerfully for that queen of bright eyes, Miss Dickie Doubleday of the Casino.
When the old college comrades were left alone, even the shaven servitor having fled, over the cigars of the incomparable Bock & Co., the two young men drifted into a considerable rapprochement.
The old friendly days came back. Château
Yquem, Pontèt Canet, fine Burgundy, and Pommery Sec have often mended many a torn thread in the web of friendship, as well as patched up the little rift in the Lute of Love. Your sweet devil-born spirit of champagne always stands smiling at the crossroads of life.
“And, both reviewed the olden past—
Full many a friend, in battle slain,
And all the war that each had known,
Rose o’er them once again.”