STILL PRANDIAL What wine shall we have?
I confess I am no judge of wines, except when they are bad.

To-night I feel inclined to allow my choice to be directed by sentiment; and as we are on so pretty a pilgrimage, would it not be appropriate to drink Liebfraumilch?
Hock is full of fancy, and all wines are by their very nature full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.
Forgive me, therefore, if I grow reminiscent.

Indeed, I fear that the hour for the story of my First Love has come.

But first, notice the waitress.

I confess, whether beautiful or plain,--not too plain,--women who earn their own living have a peculiar attraction for me.
I hope the Golden Girl will not turn out to be a duchess.