We guessed how you were feeling--much better to have come up and dined with us.

Here we are! Get some glasses, there's a good chap." A gold-foiled bottle appeared, and a packet of hastily cut sandwiches.
Wrayson found himself mechanically eating and drinking before he knew where he was.

Then in an instant the sandwiches had become delicious, and the wine was rushing through his veins like a new elixir of life.

He was himself again, the banging of anvils in his head had ceased; he was shaken perhaps, but a sane man.

His eyes filled with tears, and he gripped the Colonel by the hand.
"Colonel, you're--you're--God knows what you are," he murmured.