His mood was contented and brisk.

He held up the glass of liqueur against the sunlight.
"Better than any Benedictine I ever tasted," he said.

"A dozen bottles of that would cure this beastly cold of mine.

By Jove! it would.

It's as good as the Gardivani I got that blessed day when we chaps of the Ninetieth breakfasted with the King of Savoy." He laughed to himself at the reminiscence.