ked aimlessly about, his mind
obviously upon some troublesome or perplexing matter. I could not
believe that Clancy's victory had cast this shadow upon his spirit,
but I asked no questions. He ordered wine for dinner, a thing he had
never done before at the Manor, save on a few occasions when we had
had guests, and drank freely of both sherry and champagne, finishing
after his coffee with some neat brandy, which he tossed off with an
air of familiarity that gave me something of a shock. He invited me to
join him and when I refused seemed to find amusement in twitting me
about my abstemious habits.

"Come along now, just a nip of brandy, Roger. 'Twill make your blood
flow a bit faster. No? Why not, old Dry-as-dust? Conscientious
scruples? A dram is as good as three scruples. Come along, just a
taste."

"Brandy was made for old dotards and young idiots. I'm neither."

"Oh, very well, here's luck!" and he drank again, setting the glass
down and drawing a deep breath of satisfaction. And then with a laugh.
"An idiot! I suppose I am. Good thing to be an idiot, Roger. Nothing
expected of you. Nobody disappointed."

"You're talking nonsense," I said sternly.

"Nonsense! I differ from you there, old top," he laughed. "The true
philosophy of life is the one that brings the greatest happiness.
Self-expression is my motto, wherever it leads you. I fight, I play, I
smoke, I drink because those are the things my particular ego
requires."

"Ah! You're happy?"

"'Happiness,' old Dry-as-dust, as our good friend Rasselas puts it,
'is but a myth.' I have ceased listening with credulity to the
whispers of fancy or pursuing with eagerness the phantoms of hope.
They're not for me. To live in the thick of life and take my knockouts
or give them--Reality! I'm up against it at last,--real people, real
thoughts, real trials, real problems--I want them all. I'm going to
drink deep, deep."

He reached for the brandy bottle again, but I whisked it away and
rose.

"You're a d----d jackass," I said, storming down at where he sat from
my indignant five feet eight.

His brow lowered and his jaw shot forward unpleasantly. "A jackass," I
repeated firmly, still holding the neck of the brandy bottle.

He glared at me a moment longer, then he slowly sank back into his
chair, his features relaxing, and burst into a laugh.

"Roger, you improve upon acquaintance. All these years you've
concealed from me a nice judgment in the use of profanity