We all stood up. I drained my glass. I immediately wished I hadn't. The others drained their glasses. I saw they wished they hadn't too. I do not think I ever tasted anything quite so nasty. I wished I had sampled it before. As it was, it took me by surprise, so much by surprise that my first impulse was to fly for shelter. It was like--well, the taste was really so exceedingly disagreeable that comparison fails me. "It is a case of kill or cure," observed Pybus, with the most extraordinary expression of countenance I ever saw. "The man who takes much of that stuff will be killed if he isn't cured. Death for me, rather than 'Aunt Jane's Jalap'--if it _is_ jalap." "It is rather pungent," I owned. "I don't know about pungent," continued Pybus, who certainly seemed to be suffering; "but with ice pudding it's a failure." "Never," declared Mrs. Chalmers, who was leaning back in her chair, and had her handkerchief in her hand, "never did I taste anything like it! Never! and after dinner, too!" Margaret's feelings seemed for the moment to be too strong for speech. I perceived the thing had been a failure. Still, I endeavoured to pass it off, which was difficult, for I myself felt really ill. "Ah! it is to the after effects we must look forward." "It is the after effects I'm thinking of," said Pybus. That was almost more than I could bear; it was the after effects I was thinking of as well. "Come, let's adjourn and have a little music." "Have we finished the bottle of jalap?" inquired Pybus. "I really must apologise; I confess I had no idea what a peculiar taste it had; it certainly is peculiar." Mrs. Chalmers put her handkerchief up to her eyes. "And after dinner, too!" We accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, as well as we could. Pybus went with Mrs. Chalmers, I took Margaret. As we went I whispered in her ear: "Now, you and I can look over the house together." "I am afraid, George, you must excuse me. I--I couldn't walk about just yet. Do take me to a chair!" We had planned that we would examine the house together from attic to basement; indeed, the whole affair had been got up for that express purpose. Everything was in apple-pie order and ready for inspection. The servants were on the tiptoe of expectation. As we went, Margaret was to make suggestions for alterations which would fit the house for its mistress. And opportunities might arise for a little confidential intercourse. But, of course, I could not drag the girl about the place against her will. Love works wonders. But there _are_ circumstances which prove too strong. The atmosphere of the drawing-room was depressing. It was no use my talking to Margaret, because she wouldn't talk to me. And general conversation seemed out of the question. So I tried another line.