, first with
temptation which he had fought against and overcome in the strength of
the memory of that terrible night in Warwick Gardens. Then the subtle
aroma had become merely a matter of interest to him, a thing to be
studied as a physician might study the symptoms of a disease for which
he has found the cure.

He had seen his friends leave his rooms somewhat the worse for liquor,
and he had reasoned with them afterwards, not priggishly or
sanctimoniously, but just as a man who had had the same weakness and had
overcome it because he thought it necessary to do so, and they had taken
it all very good-humoredly and gone away and done the same thing again a
few nights afterwards, seeming none the worst for it.

But surely now he had conquered the deadly craving. Surely two years of
hard mental study and healthy physical exercise--two years, during which
not a drop of alcohol had passed his lips--must have worked the poison
out of his blood. Henceforth he was entitled to look upon alcohol as a
servant, as a minister to his wants, and not as a master of his
weaknesses.

His mental struggle had so exhausted him that his physical nature craved
for a stimulant, cried out for some support, some new life, new energy,
if even for an hour or so, so imperiously, that his enfeebled mental
stamina had not strength enough left to say "no."

He had got his collar on and his tie tied, and his hands and fingers
were trembling as though he were just recovering from an attack of
malarial fever.

"It can't possibly do me any harm now," he said, as he moved away from
the glass towards the door of his sitting-room. "I've conquered all
that. I haven't the slightest desire for it as drink--I haven't had for
over a year now--I only want it as medicine, as a patient has it from a
doctor. I can't go on without it, I must have something or I shall faint
in the Theatre or do something ridiculous of that sort, and as for
meeting Enid--good heavens, how am I to do that at all! Yes, I think a
couple of teaspoonsful in that coffee will do me far more good than
harm."

He went towards the sideboard on which stood his spirit-case. He
unlocked it and took out the brandy decanter. As he did so the memory of
that other night came back to him, and he smiled. He had conquered now,
and he could afford to smile at those old fears. He took the stopper out
of the decanter and deliberately raised it to his nostrils. No, it was
powerless. The aroma had no