Fare you well." He bowed low.

She dropped him a slight curtsey, and ascended the stairs.
Once as she reached the gallery above she turned.

He had resumed his seat at table, and was in the act of filling his glass.

The servants had withdrawn, and for half an hour thereafter they sat on, sipping their wine, and making conversation--while Crispin drained bumper after bumper and grew every instant more boisterous, until at length his boisterousness passed into incoherence.

His eyelids drooped heavily, and his chin kept ever and anon sinking forward on to his breast.
Kenneth, flushed with wine, yet master of his wits, watched him with contempt.