The empty glass of wine on the table was a clue. He would have to refill it and drink it.
He sipped it. There was nothing to indicate that he was at all ill. The nose was clear and the mouth was wide open, the whole face seemed to be open and bright, and he was smiling with a mouthfull of wine.

“That’s what I was thinking of,” he said. “A bit of wine to go with this big feast.”
“And when you have eaten it, will you imbibe it?” I asked him.
“My goodness,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anythin’.”