As
Mr. Clay once remarked, the mellowing years, sir, have refined it."
"Dinner is ready," said John.
There was no necessity to entertain Mr. Grey. He talked at length, what
James Penhallow later described as "grown-up prattle." Horses, the crops,
and at length the proper methods of fining wine--a word of encouragement
from Rivers set him off again. Meanwhile the dinner grew cold on his
plate. At last, abruptly conscious of the lingering meal, Mr. Grey said,
"This comes, sir, of being in too interesting society."
Was this mere quaint humour, thought Rivers; but when Grey added, "I
should have said, sir, too interested company," he began to wonder at the
self-absorption of what was evidently a provincial gentleman. At last,
with "Your very good health!" he took freely of the captain's Madeira.
Rivers, who sipped a single glass slowly, was about to rise when to his
amusement, using his uncle's phrase, John said, "My uncle thinks that
Madeira and tobacco do not go well together; you may like to smoke in the
library."
Grey remarked, "Quite right, as Henry Clay once said, 'There is nothing
as melancholy as the old age of a dinner; who, sir, shall pronounce its
epitaph?' That, sir, I call eloquence. No more wine, thank you." As he
spoke, he drew a large Cabana from his waistcoat pocket and lighted it
from one of the candles on the table.
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