Strangers in distress, who appealed to the rich retired
merchant for help, found in their excellent references to character the
worst form of persuasion that they could have adopted. Paupers without
a rag of reputation left to cover them, were the objects of charity
whom Mr. Henley relieved. When he was asked to justify his conduct, he
said: "I have a sympathy with bad characters---I am one of them
myself."
With the arrival of the dinner hour the doctor appeared, in no very
amiable humour, at the inn.
"Another hard day's work," he said; "I should sink under it, if I
hadn't a prospect of getting rid of my practice here. London--or the
neighbourhood of London--there's the right place for a man like Me.
Well? Where's the wonderful wine? Mind! I'm Tom-Tell-Truth; if I don't
like your French tipple, I shall say so."
The inn possessed no claret glasses; they drank the grand wine in
tumblers as if it had been vin ordinaire.
Mr. Vimpany showed that he was acquainted with the formalities proper
to the ceremony of tasting. He filled his makeshift glass, he held it
up to the light, and looked at the wine severely; he moved the tumbler
to and fro under his nose, and smelt at it again and again; he paused
and reflected; he tasted the claret as cautiously as if he feared it
might be poisoned; he smacked his lips, and emptied his glass at a
draught; lastly, he showed some consideration for his host's anxiety,
and pronounced sentence on the wine.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118