So they came; and they drank, and they laughed, and they talked back their young days.

They saw not the nervous irritation, the strain on the spirits, the heated membrane of the brain, which made Sir Miles the most jovial of all.

It was a night of nights; the old fellows were lifted back into their chariots or sedans.

Sir Miles alone seemed as steady and sober as if he had supped with Diogenes.

His servant, whose respectful admonitions had been awed into silence, lent him his arm to bed, but Sir Miles scarcely touched it.