"How was it up to me? You all say that! How was it? I understood that if I cut it out and went up there and let that iron-fisted Irishman slam me around, that I'd come out all right. And the first little baby-drink I hit began the whole thing again!" "Why did you take it? You didn't have to." "I wanted it," retorted Quest angrily. "Not badly enough to make self-control impossible. That's what you went up there for, to get back self-control. You got it but didn't use it. Do you think there is any sort of magic serum Mulqueen or I or anybody under Heaven can pump into you that will render you immune from the consequences of making an alcohol sewer of yourself?" "I certainly supposed I could come out and drink like a gentleman," said the young man sullenly. "Drink like a--_what_? A gentleman? What's that? What's drinking like a gentleman? I don't know what it is. You either drink alcohol or you don't; you either swill it or you don't. Anybody can do either. I'm not aware that either is peculiar to a gentleman. But I know that both are peculiar to fools." Quest muttered, picking his fingers, and cast an ugly side look at the physician. "I don't know what you just said," snapped Dr. Bailey, "but I'll tell you this: alcohol is poison and it has not--and never had--in any guise whatever, the slightest compensating value for internal use. It isn't a food; it's a poison; it isn't a beneficial stimulant; it's a poison; it isn't an aid to digestion; it's a poison; it isn't a life saver; it's a life taker. It's a parasite, forger, thief, pander, liar, brutalizer, murderer! "Those are the plain facts. There isn't, and there never has been, one word to say for it or any excuse, except morbid predisposition or self-inculcated inclination, to offer for swallowing it. Now go to your brewers, your wine merchants, your champagne touts, your fool undergraduates, your clubmen, your guzzling viveurs--and they'll all tell you the contrary. So will some physicians. And you can take your choice. Any ass can. That is all, my boy." The young man glowered sulkily at the prescription. "Do I understand that this will stop the jumps?" "If you really believe that, you have never heard me say so," snapped Dr. Bailey. "Well, what the devil will it do?" "The directions are there. You have my memorandum of the regime you are to follow. It will quiet you till you get to Mulqueen's. Those two bits of paper, however, are useless unless you help yourself. If you want to become convalescent you can--even yet. It won't be easy; it will hurt; but you can do it, as I say, even yet. But it is _you_ who must do it, not I or that bit of paper or Mulqueen! "Just now you happen to want to get well because the effect of alcohol poison disturbs you. Things crawl, as you say, on the back of your hand. Naturally, you don't care for such phenomena.