Diary of a Drug Fiend

170 The Diary of a Drug Fiend By Jove, I know why that is, too. It’s because I feel that he despises me intellectually, and because I respect him. Despite my dislike, I am eager to show him that I am not such a rotter after all. One of his fads is to make his pupils keep these magical diaries. I feel that I’ve gone in for a com- petition; that I have to produce something more interesting than anything they do, whoever they are. Here comes Peter Pan. He hasn’t grown old after We had a gorgeous feed at the dear old café. King Lamus came up to our table but he only said a few words. “So you got it, I see.” Cockie gave him one back. “T hate to injure your reputation as a prophet, Mr. Lamus, but it isn’t stopping when you have to stop. I’ve got it, as you say, and now, with your kind per- mission, I’m going to show you that we can stop.” Lamus changed his manner like a flash. His con- temptuous smile became like sunrise in spring. — “That’s talking,” he said. ‘‘I’m glad you've got the idea. Don’t think I’m trying to put you off, but if you should find it more difficult than you imagine, don’t be too proud to come to me! I really do know some fairly good tips.” I was glad that Peter took it in good part. Being in good form, he realised, I suppose, that it was a serious business. We might strike a snag. August 23 The night has been a miracle! We went on taking H. pretty steadily. I think the C. spoils it. Our love bloomed afresh as if it was a new creation. We were lapsed in boundless bliss| *‘ Awake, for ever awake ! Awake as one never is | While sleep is a possible end, Awake in the void, the abyss.”