He worked manfully at the steak.

He gave another crumple to the tart, and left it without a pang.

But when the old man urged him, for the third time, to take that pernicious draught with his cheese, he angrily demanded a glass of beer.

The old man toddled out of the room, and on his return he proffered to him a diminutive glass of white spirit, which he called usquebaugh.

Phineas, happy to get a little whisky, said nothing more about the beer, and so the dinner was over.
He rose so suddenly from his chair that the man did not dare to ask him whether he would not sit over his wine.