"Virtue," she said to herself, "is its own reward." Glancing with careless curiosity at the disorder of the dinner-table, she noticed some wine still left in the bottom of her husband's glass.
Had artificial means been used to reduce him to his present condition?
She tasted the claret.

No; there was nothing in the flavour of it which betrayed that he had been drugged.

If the waiter was to be believed, he had only drunk claret--and there he was, in a state of helpless stupefaction, nevertheless.
She looked again at the dinner-table, and discovered one, among the many empty bottles, with some wine still left in it.

After a moment of reflection, she took a clean tumbler from the sideboard.
Here was the wine which had been an object of derision to Mr.Vimpany and his friends.

They were gross feeders and drinkers; and it might not be amiss to put their opinions to the test.