1 "Here is wine," said Mr. Pumblechook.
2 And we all had cake and wine on gold plates.
3 But Mr. Pumblechook said, sharply, "Give him wine, Mum."
4 Well," said Wemmick, "he'll give you wine, and good wine.
5 He actually seemed to serve as a zest to Mr. Jaggers's wine.
6 He cross-examined his very wine when he had nothing else in hand.
7 Wemmick drank a glass of wine, and looked with a grimly satisfied air at Mr. Jaggers, but not at me.
8 I did the same; and if I had turned myself upside down before drinking, the wine could not have gone more direct to my head.
9 At about this time, I began to observe that he was getting flushed in the face; as to myself, I felt all face, steeped in wine and smarting.
10 And he was so very free of the wine that he even called for the other bottle, and handed that about with the same liberality, when the first was gone.
11 She withdrew her hands and went out of the room, and Mr. Jaggers, putting the decanters on from his dumb-waiter, filled his glass and passed round the wine.
12 I'll engage there's no Tar in that: so, the sergeant thanked him and said that as he preferred his drink without tar, he would take wine, if it was equally convenient.
13 I noticed that Mr. Pumblechook in his hospitality appeared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, but took the bottle from Mrs. Joe and had all the credit of handing it about in a gush of joviality.
14 I was made very uneasy in my mind by Mrs. Pocket's falling into a discussion with Drummle respecting two baronetcies, while she ate a sliced orange steeped in sugar and wine, and, forgetting all about the baby on her lap, who did most appalling things with the nut-crackers.
15 Three or four times I feebly thought I would start conversation; but whenever he saw me going to ask him anything, he looked at me with his glass in his hand, and rolling his wine about in his mouth, as if requesting me to take notice that it was of no use, for he couldn't answer.
16 He held it between himself and the candle, tasted the port, rolled it in his mouth, swallowed it, looked at his glass again, smelt the port, tried it, drank it, filled again, and cross-examined the glass again, until I was as nervous as if I had known the wine to be telling him something to my disadvantage.
17 Pretending to read a smeary newspaper long out of date, which had nothing half so legible in its local news, as the foreign matter of coffee, pickles, fish sauces, gravy, melted butter, and wine with which it was sprinkled all over, as if it had taken the measles in a highly irregular form, I sat at my table while he stood before the fire.
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