For the evening they were sliding down the hill into the village, on those little sleds which serve the same purpose as gondolas do in Venice. Their destination was a hotel with an old-fashioned Swiss tap-room, wooden and resounding, a room of clocks, kegs, steins, and antlers. Many parties at long tables blurred into one great party and ate fondue - a peculiarly indigestible form of Welsh rarebit, mitigated by hot spiced wine.
from Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1934)
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