ave a violent start. There was a quality of fear in her bold eyes.
Then she laughed, a hard, jarring laugh.

"In the Tivoli," she said.

Strange again! Now that the worst had come to pass, and I had suffered
all that it was in my power to suffer, this new sense of strength and
mastery had come to me. It seemed as if some of the iron spirit of the
land had gotten into my blood, a grim, insolent spirit that made me
fearless; at times a cold cynical spirit, a spirit of rebellion, of
anarchy, of aggression. The greatest evil had befallen me. Life could do
no more to harm me. I had everything to gain and nothing to lose. I
cared for no man. I despised them, and, to back me in my bitterness, I
had twenty-five thousand dollars in the bank.

I was still weak from my illness and my long mush had wearied me, so I
went into a saloon and called for drinks. I felt the raw whisky burn my
throat. I tingled from head to foot with a strange, pleasing warmth.
Suddenly the bar, with its protecting rod of brass, seemed to me a very
desirable place, bright, warm, suggestive of comfort and
good-fellowship. How agreeably every one was smiling! Indeed, some were
laughing for sheer joy. A big, merry-hearted miner called for another
round, and I joined in.

Where was that bitter feeling now? Where that morbid pain at my heart?
As I drank it all seemed to pass away. Magical change! What a fool I
was! What was there to make such a fuss about? Take life easy. Laugh
alike at the good and bad of it. It was all a farce anyway. What would
it matter a hundred years from now? Why were we put into this world to
be tortured? I, for one, would protest. I would writhe no more in the
strait-jacket of existence. Here was escape, heartsease, happiness--here
in this bottled impishness. Again I drank.

What a rotten world it all was! But I had no hand in the making of it,
and it wasn't my task to improve it. I was going to get the best I could
out of it. Eat, drink and be merry, that was the last word of
philosophy. Others seemed to be able to extract all kinds of happiness
from things as they are, so why not I? In any case, here was the
solution of my troubles. Better to die happily drunk than miserably
sober. I was not drinking from weakness. Oh no! I was drinking with
deliberate intent to kill pain.

How wonderfully strong I felt! I smashed my clenched fist against the
bar. My knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but I felt no pain. I was so
light of foo