"You ought to have sown your wild oats by this time, my boy. To begin with, what makes you drink such a precious lot of whisky. If I had taken half as many glasses as you have to-night, I shouldn't be fit for much work to-morrow morning." "Oh, I'm not afraid of going much too far in that line. I can foresee that my fate is rather to be driven to the dogs by the women," replied Hudson. "That is very probable, judging from the reports that are current about you," said the doctor. "Yes, Duncan," continued the barrister, "I don't mind confessing myself to an old friend like you. It _is_ the women--and I seem to be becoming a greater idiot every year. My mind's always distracted by some intrigue or other, generally with some actress who chucks me up as soon as I have spent upon her all the money I can raise by every means known to the Gentiles. There's nothing that so unsettles a man's mind, so unfits him for work, and is so certain to ruin him as such a life. I know all this, but I can't pull myself together and reform. In short, I'm a confounded fool." "Some wise man said that no man ever does any good in the world till he gets women altogether out of his mind," said the doctor. "And how on earth does that same wise man propose to bring about that happy consummation?" asked Hudson. "I suppose the wise man meant that as long as a man passed a large portion of his life in a sort of restless fever, worrying about one fancy after another, always full of anxiety and uncertainty over some new intrigue, he was in too unsettled a condition to concentrate himself on really good work. The remedy, I suppose, is to marry." "Marriage is certainly often a good settler," replied Hudson; "but it's all very well to say marry--the question is how and to whom? You are clever at diagnozing, doctor. You don't tell me where to get the medicine." "That, of course, I can't," replied his friend with a laugh. "But seriously, old man, you must take care what you are about. You are drifting. I know your temperament. You are living here alone in chambers; I know the life--too much leisure, unlimited temptations, little society. It is not to be wondered at that so many of you young barristers go to the dogs. "I knew a man, as clever, as good a fellow as ever lived. He was a good deal my senior. He is a barrister, a briefless barrister, with a considerable private income. By the very loneliness of his life, for he too did not care about going into society, he was driven out for mere companionship's sake into vicious ways. He was of an uxorious nature, not sensual, but to be in love with some woman was a necessity of his life. His idleness, of course, intensified the necessity.