The front parlour was quite full, and the ministering angel was going in and out quickly, with more generous supplies of the gifts of Bacchus than were usual at the 'Cat and Whistle.' Gin and water was the ordinary tipple in the front parlour; and any one of its denizens inclined to cut a dash above his neighbours generally did so with a bottom of brandy.

But now Mrs.Davis was mixing port-wine negus as fast as her hands could make it.
And then there were standing round the counter four or five customers, faces well known to Charley, all of whom seemed to be dressed with a splendour second only to that of the landlady.

One man had on an almost new brown frock coat with a black velvet collar, and white trousers.

Two had blue swallow-tailed coats with brass buttons; and a fourth, a dashing young lawyer's clerk from Clement's Inn, was absolutely stirring a mixture, which he called a mint julep, with a yellow kid glove dangling out of his hand.
They all stood back when Charley entered; they had been accustomed to make way for him in former days, and though he had latterly ceased to rule at the 'Cat and Whistle' as he once did, they were too generous to trample on fallen greatness.

He gave his hand to Mrs.Davis across the counter, and asked her in the most unconcerned voice which he could assume what was in the wind.