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Updated: May 23, 2025
In my four years of service with him I never knew anything of an alcoholic nature pass his lips except a glass or two of wine at dinner, very rarely a little at luncheon, and from time to time a whisky-and-soda before going to bed. He never seemed to form a habit of it.
There I breakfasted off a whisky-and-soda and some biscuits from the cupboard. By this time it was getting on for six o'clock. I put a pipe in My Pocket and filled my pouch from the tobacco jar on the table by the fireplace. As I poked into the tobacco my fingers touched something hard, and I drew out Scudder's little black pocket-book ... That seemed to me a good omen.
"It's several years since I expected anything," he answered. "Now I only hope." Nan smiled. "Come in, pessimist, and don't begin by being epigrammatic on the very doorstep. Tea? Or coffee? I'm afraid the flat doesn't run to whisky-and-soda." "Coffee, please and your conversation will suffice. 'A Loaf of Bread . . . and Thou beside me singing in the Wilderness' . . ."
If I had to wait, a whisky-and-soda seemed a much more agreeable thing to beguile the time with than a third helping of ham and eggs, so crossing the road with a light heart, I pushed open a door marked "Saloon Bar." I found myself in a square, comfortably fitted apartment where a genial-looking gentleman was dispensing drinks to a couple of chauffeurs.
The gentlemen, as usual, went to the billiard-room for cigars and whisky-and-soda. The two Americans soon professed themselves rather tired, and took their candles and went off to bed. But even they would seem not to be quite so sleepy and tired as they may have fancied; for they both entered the room of Professor Flick and began to talk. It was a very charming 'apartment' in the French sense.
He saw what was the matter with me, and the moment we were inside, he led the way to my study, thrust me down into a chair and mixed me a whisky-and-soda. I was never more grateful for a drink in my life. It pulled me together, and in less time than I had conceived possible, I felt as if I could have managed another seventy-five miles without a halt.
Her maid found her in the morning lying upon her bed in a deep sleep and still wearing the dress in which she had gone out. When Dick and Stella walked along the drive to the lane Harold Hazlewood, who was radiant at the success of his dinner-party, turned to Robert Pettifer in the hall. "Have a whisky-and-soda, Robert, before you go," he said. He led the way back into the library.
"He does," replied Yvonne naively; "he regards you as a connoisseur of good looks!" "Oh!" cried Don. "Oh! listen to her! Yvonne, you are growing vain." "A woman without vanity is not appreciated." "A woman without vanity is not human." "If you are going to say cynical things I won't talk to you. You want a whisky-and-soda." "I don't." "You do.
I thought your lordship oughter be told about it its not being at all the sort of thing as your lordship would be likely to 'old with." There are noblemen who would, on the instant, have bidden William Roper go to the devil. Lord Loudwater was not of these. He set the newspaper down beside the whisky-and-soda, leaned forward, and said in a hushed voice: "What the devil are you talking about? Hey?"
He walked back with me to my rooms, and hardly uttered one word all the way. I gave him a stiff whisky-and-soda, which he gulped down absent-mindedly. There was that strained, hunted look in his eyes that you see in a frightened animal's. He was always lean, but now he had fallen away to skin and bone.
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