The two men were alone.
"I should like to know," Sally's father was saying, in his quiet, apologetic voice, "how many people you generally expect to communicate on Easter Sunday.

The wine, you know.

I want to know how much wine to pour out." His face twitched as he waited for the answer.

It seemed as if some unseen fingers were alternately pinching the flabby flesh of his cheeks, then as swiftly letting it go.
Mr.Windle made a mental calculation, delivering his estimation of the number with a voice confident of his accuracy.
"Sixty," he said.

"Not less--possibly more." "That will take a lot of wine." "There's plenty in that cupboard," said Mr.Windle.
The gentle rector reverently opened the cupboard and examined it.
"Oh yes; there is enough," he said.