"Well," said Breitmann, raising his glass, "a pretty woman and a
bottle!"

It was the first jarring note, and Fitzgerald frowned.

"Pardon me," added Breitmann, observing the impression he had made,
smiling, and when he smiled the student slashes in his cheeks weren't
so noticeable. "What I should have said is, a good woman and a good
bottle. For what greater delight than to sip a rare vintage with a
woman of beauty and intellect opposite? One glass is enough to loose
her laughter, her wit, her charm. Bah! A man who knows how to drink
his wine, a woman who knows when to laugh, a story-teller who stops
when his point is told; these trifles add a little color as we pass.
Will you drink to my success?"

"In what?" with Yankee caution.

"In whatever the future sees fit to place under my hand."

"With pleasure! And by the same token you will wish me the same?"

"Gladly!"

Their glasses touched lightly; and then their glances, drawn by some
occult force, half-circled till they paused on the face of the girl,
who, perhaps compelled by the same invisible power, had leveled her
eyes in their direction. With well-bred calm her interest returned to
her companions, and the incident was, to all outward sign, closed.
Whatever took place behind that beautiful but indifferent mask no one