“I say. You might open it,” Brett suggested.
“Yes, my dear. Now I’ll open it.”
It was amazing champagne.
“I say that is wine,” Brett held up her glass. “We ought to toast something. ‘Here’s to royalty.’ ”
“This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don’t want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste.”
Brett’s glass was empty.
“You ought to write a book on wines, count,” I said.
“ Mr. Barnes,” answered the count, “all I want out of wines is to enjoy them.”
“Let’s enjoy a little more of this,” Brett pushed her glass forward. The count poured very carefully. “There, my dear. Now you enjoy that slowly, and then you can get drunk.”
“Drunk? Drunk?”
“My dear, you are charming when you are drunk.”
“Listen to the man.”
“ Mr. Barnes,” the count poured my glass full. “She is the only lady I have ever known who was as charming when she was drunk as when she was sober.”
“You haven’t been around much, have you?”