Then I remembered the two small glasses on the little table across the room, and instinctively glanced at them.

But no whiskey had been drunk out of them--the odor of anisette is unmistakable.
"You carry the key to the wine-cellar ?" he asked.
I considered a moment.

I did not know what to make of bottles on the kitchen table.

These women and _bottles_! They abhorred wine; they had reason to, God knows; T remembered the dinner and all that had signalised it, and felt my confusion grow.

But a question had been asked, and I must answer it.