eggs of France and the butter of Denmark. These delicacies were followed by a pie, made of dried apple chips from California and the cheese of Tennessee. Only the coffee, the bread and the beer were English; the coffee was ground beans, the bread, half-baked, was sour, and the beer was swipes. Angel's appetite and mine were young, and we dealt firmly with these foods. Sir Reginald could only toy with them—if indeed he could be said to toy with dainties so uncompromising—nor was he cheered by the sight of a freshly opened tin of the milk of Switzerland to drink with his decoction of beans.
For the first time I saw his bubbling spirit chilled. He was, in spite of the presence of Angel, the grumpiest of the grumpy after lunch, and it was fortunate that he had brought with him a large flask of liqueur brandy. He had to half empty it and smoke two cigars before he was restored, not to cheerfulness, but to equanimity. He smoked the second cigar and drank the second half of the flask of brandy furtively, when the windings of the steps of the church tower hid him from Angel, during our exploration of the church. When we reached the top of the tower, as we had foreseen, the five sodden counties were veiled from our eyes by the November mist, and Angel cried: "Oh, this is disappointing! We must come here again!"
