The revelation stunned me; tears came into my eyes, and trickling
down over my cheeks, fairly hissed with the feverish heat of my flesh. My
muscles relaxed, and I fell limp into my chair.
"You need stimulant," said my visitor, kindly. "Go take a drop of your Old
Reserve, and then come back here to me. I've something to say to you."
"Will you join me?" I asked, faintly.
"No," returned the visitor. "I am so fond of whiskey that I never molest
it. That act which is your stimulant is death to the rye. Never realized
that, did you?"
"No, I never did," I said, meekly.
"And yet you claim to love it. Bah!" he said.
And then I obeyed his command, drained my glass to the dregs, and
returned. "What is your mission?" I asked, when I had made myself as
comfortable as was possible under the circumstances.
"To relieve you of your woes," he said.
"You are a homoeopath, I observe," said I, with a sneer. "You are a
homoeopath in theory and an allopath in practice."
"I am not usually unintelligent," said he.
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