Experience had made her acquainted with the flavour
of the finest claret--and that experience was renewed by the claret
which she was now tasting. It was easy to understand why Mr. Mountjoy
had purchased the wine; and, after a little thinking, his motive for
inviting Mr. Vimpany to dinner seemed to be equally plain. Foiled in
their first attempt at discovery by her own prudence and tact, his
suspicions had set their trap. Her gross husband had been tempted to
drink, and to talk at random (for Mr. Mountjoy's benefit) in a state of
intoxication!
What secrets might the helpless wretch not have betrayed before the
wine had completely stupefied him?
Urged by rage and fear, she shook him furiously. He woke; he glared at
her with bloodshot eyes; he threatened her with his clenched fist.
There was but one way of lifting his purblind stupidity to the light.
She appealed to his experience of himself, on many a former occasion:
"You fool, you have been drinking again--and there's a patient waiting
for you." To that dilemma he was accustomed; the statement of it
partially roused him. Mrs. Vimpany tore off the paper wrapping, and
opened the medicine-bottle which she had brought with her.
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