Barely tasting it, he set the glass down, and leaning his arm on the table, turned his face to me, shielding it with his hand from the gaze of those about us.

I pushed away a candle that flared in our faces.
"You never drink wine ?" "No, Cassandra." "How was the ride down ?" "Delightful." "What about the new horse ?" "He is an awful brute." "When shall we have a ride with him ?" "When you please." The boy came in to say would we please go to the parlor; our room was wanted for supper.

An immediate rush, with loud laughing, took place, for the parlor fire; but Charles and I did not move.

I was busy remaking the bow of my purple silk cravat.
"'I drink the cup of a costly death,'" Ben hummed, as he sauntered along by us, hands in his pockets--the last in the room, except us two.
"Indeed, Somers; perhaps you would like this too." And Charles offered him his glass of wine.
Ben took it, and with his thumb and finger snapped it off at the stem, tipping the wine over Charles's hand.
I saw it staining his wristband, like blood.

He did not stir, but a slight smile traveled swiftly over his face.
"I know Veronica," said Ben, looking at me.