He looked at his friend. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. “No I’m not, John. ” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. . She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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