It was a great night for Sheridan--the very crest of his wave. He
sat there knowing himself Thane and master by his own endeavor; and
his big, smooth, red face grew more and more radiant with good will
and with the simplest, happiest, most boy-like vanity. He was the
picture of health, of good cheer, and of power on a holiday. He had
thirty teeth, none bought, and showed most of them when he laughed;
his grizzled hair was thick, and as unruly as a farm laborer's; his
chest was deep and big beneath its vast facade of starched white
linen, where little diamonds twinkled, circling three large pearls;
his hands were stubby and strong, and he used them freely in gestures
of marked picturesqueness; and, though he had grown fat at chin and
waist and wrist, he had not lost the look of readiness and activity.
He dominated the table, shouting jocular questions and railleries
at every one. His idea was that when people were having a good time
they were noisy; and his own additions to the hubbub increased his
pleasure, and, of course, met the warmest encouragement from his
guests. Edith had discovered that he had very foggy notions of the
difference between a band and an orchestra, and when it was made clear
to him he had held out for a band until Edith threatened tears; but
the size of the orchestra they hired consoled him, and he had now no
regrets in the matter.
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