If this, he said to himself vaguely, was what they meant by wine in the old days, then so far as his own experience went, the best "nitzy" Burgundy was no more than a flabby, _vin ordinaire_ beside it.

Not that "flabby" was what he meant to call it, but that was the word that came.

For he felt as if no less than six men were flowing in his veins, he summed it up to himself triumphantly.
But after all, the effect was only momentary.

Almost as quickly as those strange fumes had arisen they were dissipated.

And when presently Amory stood up unsteadily from the seat of the window, he could see clearly enough that Jarvo, with terrified eyes, was turning the vase in his hands.
"It is the same," he was saying, "it must be the same.