This the doctor now took and filled nearly to the brim.
"Come, Thorne, a bumper; a bumper for this once.

'Whatever the drink, it a bumper must be.' You stingy fellow! I would not treat you so.
Well--well." "It's as full as you can hold it, Scatcherd." "Try me; try me! my hand is a rock; at least at holding liquor." And then he drained the contents of the glass, which were sufficient in quantity to have taken away the breath from any ordinary man.
"Ah, I'm better now.

But, Thorne, I do love a full glass, ha! ha! ha!" There was something frightful, almost sickening, in the peculiar hoarse guttural tone of his voice.

The sounds came from him as though steeped in brandy, and told, all too plainly, the havoc which the alcohol had made.

There was a fire too about his eyes which contrasted with his sunken cheeks: his hanging jaw, unshorn beard, and haggard face were terrible to look at.