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le garcon seemed visibly puzzled and finally [[strikethrough]] was [[/strikethrough]] went by with a gesture and shrug that betokened his thought, "Ah, these Americains, they do not know how to dine! I understan' zem not!" We accepted his beer, however, and he appeared mollified although not entirely so, [[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]] because of our [[strikethrough]] passing by his [[/strikethrough]] refusal of his very good wine. And since then I have learned the beauty of ^[[the custom in]] this wine country [[strikethrough]] [[a little ??]] [[/strikethrough]] of sipping the grape with the repast. In London I enjoyed the treat of some remarkable Champagne, but in ^[[the Champagne land]] [[strikethrough]] France [[/strikethrough]] I have enjoyed wine that was a veritable treat from the time of its appearance in old [[strikethrough]] near [[/strikethrough]] dust-covered bottles, through the fascinating sight of the pouring of the limpid amber (or purple-red stream) to the actual satisfying consumation. My goodness, without getting talkative even, I have since consumed more food and good