As the time passed, the Irish lads began helping themselves to the wine, and jollity and high spirits reigned.

I noted that some of them staggered and fell down in the dances, and that one had gone to sleep in a corner.

Also, some of the girls were complaining, and wanting to leave, and others of the girls were titteringly complacent, willing for anything to happen.
When our Italian hosts had offered me wine in a general sort of way, I had declined.

My beer experience had been enough for me, and I had no inclination to traffic further in the stuff, or in anything related to it.

Unfortunately, one young Italian, Peter, an impish soul, seeing me sitting solitary, stirred by a whim of the moment, half-filled a tumbler with wine and passed it to me.