"But a special bottle," Cartwright said. "A very special bottle.
Back in the old days we formed a last man's club, jokingly. This
bottle was to be the one the last man would drink. It made us feel so
adventuresome and brave and we laughed about it while we labored to
find hormones. For, you see, none of us thought it would ever come to
pass."
"But now," said Nevin, "there are only three of us."
"You are wrong," Cartwright reminded him. "There are four."
Both of them looked at West.
"Of course," decided Nevin. "There are four of us."
Cartwright spread the napkin in his lap. "Perhaps, Louis, we might as
well let Mr. West see the painting."