Sylvan Cheney had been drinking, and he had drunk quite a bit.
However, he had a high tolerance for alcohol and people could hardly tell when he was drunk.
But drinking too much could easily give him a headache, and nicotine could help to alleviate it.
Sylvan Cheney was very tall, standing under the eaves, he exuded a strong aura of oppression and charisma.
"Could you give Joan a lift on your way, Sylvan? She is not accustomed to living in the manor and wants to return home," Yacob Harry said.
"No need to trouble Mr. Cheney, Dad, I'll wait for the driver to come and pick me up," Joan Harry said, feeling somewhat uneasy and clutching Yacob Harry's arm.
"It's no trouble," Spencer Childe said, "Sylvan, could you give Joan a ride, as the Harry's driver has gone to drop some guests."
Sylvan Cheney did not say much, just nodded, "Come with me."
"Thank you very much, Sylvan." Yacob Harry felt a little bad.
