You ought to stick to your tipple as you do to your sweetheart--you should only have one." "-- At a time," laughed Teackle.
"No, one ALL the time, you dog! When I was your age, Mr.Willits, if I drank Madeira I continued to drink Madeira, not to mix it up with everything on the table." "By Jove, you're right, Mr.Temple! I'm sticking to one girl--Miss Kate's my girl to-night.

I'm going to dance the Virginia reel with her." St.George eyed him steadily.

He saw that the liquor had already reached his head or he would not have spoken of Kate as he did.

"Your choice is most admirable, Mr.Willits," he said suavely, "but let Harry have Miss Kate to-night," adding, as he laid his hand confidingly on the young man's shoulder--"they were made to step that dance together." "But she said she would dance it with me!" he flung back--he did not mean to be defrauded.
"Really ?" It was wonderful how soft St.George's voice could be.

Teackle could not have handled a refractory patient the better.
"Well, that is," rejoined Willits, modified by Temple's tone--"she is to let me know--that was the bargain." Still another soft cadence crept into St.George's voice: "Well, even if she did say she would let you know, do be a little generous.