We have religiously eaten our beef and plum-pudding, and have each made a separate little blue fire of burnt brandy in our spoon.
It is dessert now, and father has proposed Roger's health.

I did not expect it, and I never was so nearly betrayed into feeling fond of father in my life.

They all drink it, each wishing him something good.
As for me, I have been a fool always, and I am a fool now.

I can wish him nothing, my voice is choked and my eyes drowned in inappropriate tears; only, from the depths of my heart, I ask God to give him every thing that He has of choicest and best.

For a moment or two, the wax-lights, the purple grapes, the gleaming glass and shining silver, the kindly, genial faces swim blurred before my vision.