'Tis a pretty color." Haward lifted his glass.

"I drink to your future.

Freedom, better days, a stake in a virgin land, friendship with a sometime foe." He bowed to his guest and drank.
"In my country," answered MacLean, "where we would do most honor, we drink not to life, but to death.

_Crioch onarach!_ Like a gentleman may you die." He drank, and sighed with pleasure.
"The King!" said Haward.

There was a china bowl, filled with red anemones, upon the table.