It is a little pricked, I think, and may be slightly bruised in the handling.

I spent half an hour picking out the cork this morning--but there is no question of its value." "Yes," rejoined Latrobe, moistening his lips with the topaz-colored liquid--"it is a little bruised.

I wouldn't have served it--better lay it aside for a month or two in the decanter.

Are all your corks down to that, St.George ?" "All the 1810 and '12--dry as powder some of them.

I've got one over on the sideboard that I'm afraid to tackle"-- here he turned to Clayton: "Major, you are the only man I know who can pick out a cork properly.
Yes, Todd--the bottle at the end, next to that Burgundy--carefully now.
Don't shake it, and--" "Well--but why don't YOU draw the cork yourself, St.George ?" interrupted the major, his eyes on Todd, who was searching for the rarity among the others flanking the sideboard.
"I dare not--that is, I'm afraid to try.