On the polished table food had been laid--a noble ham, two virgin pies, a dish of fruits, and a group of shining decanters.

To one coming out of the wild night it was a transformation like a dream, but Mr.Lovel, half drunk, accepted it as no more than his due.

His feather brain had been fired by the butler's "my lord," and he did not puzzle his head with questions.

From a slim bottle he filled himself a glass of brandy, but on second thoughts set it down untasted.
He would sample the wine first and top off with the spirit.

Meantime he would get warm.
He stripped off his coat, which was dampish, and revealed a dirty shirt and the dilapidated tops of his small clothes.