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How in the world could he dine if he did not prepare for that important act by the rapid absorption of two or three little glasses of white wine, between two or three sandwiches of caviare! "Ermolai must have left it in the wine-chest," said Matrena. The wine-closet was in the dining-room.
He pointed significantly to the curtain which hung where the door of the wine-closet had been. "As I did that night," he continued, "I shall do again, and still again, until the end. It's insanity, nothing more or less.
There can be no question that his later novels were written with a far higher aim than the early ones, which were reeking with a refined, yet none the less loathsome sensuality. An enormous price was paid for the Wandering Jew by the editor of the Constitutionel, who was none other than his old companion of the wine-closet Dr. Veron.
The Lieutenant-Governor strove in vain to put off the foreboding which lay heavy upon him, until, finally, unable to resist the impulse, he rose, slid his feet into his slippers, and going noiselessly into the drawing-room, stepped to the windows and put the curtains softly aside. What first met his eye as he turned was the door of his little wine-closet in the wall.
Lottie had stood for a second in dismay, after seeing her "true knight" sink on the floor, and then, like a sensible girl, instead of going off into hysterics, went like a flash to her aunt's wine-closet for brandy. But before she could find it Mrs.
"Miss Leila will have long skirts and hoops, Billy. There will be no more coasting and no more snowballing or digging up ground-hogs." "Hoops what for?" said Billy. John laughed. "Please don't, John," she said, "it's too dreadful. Oh! I hear the whistle." "Mark," said Mrs. Ann, "if George Grey comes James, did you leave the wine-closet key?" "Yes, my dear."
This type of house-boater himself is generally spoken of in brisk naval asides as a "duffer," the kitchen of his boat is a wine-closet, and, to look at him poring for hours over his paper, one may well believe that time is heavy on his hands and that he arrives during every summer vacation at depths of mortal ennui where "nothing new is, and nothing true is, and no matter!"
Cavendish was still sleeping as he had left him, with a stalwart negro porter, summoned from the Capitol by telephone early that morning, watching in a chair. Under Barclay's orders, a carpenter had already removed the splintered door of the wine-closet, and an upholsterer had replaced it by a slender brass rod from which swung a velvet curtain.
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