"Are we to begin with a cup of sack ?" Punctually the meal was served; the liquor provided therewith, though of small dignity, did no discredit to the host.

They talked and laughed over old Grammar School days, old acquaintances long since dead or lost to sight, boyish ambitions and achievements.

Dinner dismissed, a bottle of whisky on the table, a kettle steaming by the fire, Denzil's pipe and Glazzard's cigar comfortably glowing, there came a long pause.
"Well, I have a story to fell you," said Quarrier, at length.
"So I supposed," murmured the other, without eagerness.
"I don't know that I _should_ have told it but for that chance encounter at Kew.

But I'm not sorry.

I think, Glazzard, you are the one man in the world in whom I have perfect confidence." The listener just bent his head.