She had never tasted brandy till that afternoon.

Cardigan Street drank beer, and the glasses Ada had drunk at odd times had only made her sleepy without excitement.

But this seductive liquid leapt through her veins, bringing a delicious languor and a sense of comfort.

Her mind, dull and heavy by habit, ran on wheels.

She wanted to interrupt Mrs Herring to make some observations of her own which seemed too good to lose.
She felt a silly impulse to ask her whether she was born with a moustache, who taught her to shave, whether she could grow a moustache if she left it alone.