Diary of a Drug Fiend

194 The Diary of a Drug Fiend him to one of those torture-traps, and he’d never get out. I knew what he wanted, of course; a little heroin would bring him round all right. I told him I had some. I had to tell him several times before he understood. When he did, the mere thought helped to restore him ; but there remained an ort of rage, and he told me to give it him, with a greedy snarl. If I had wanted to keep it from him, I shouldn't have let him know I had it. I brought him the stuff, sitting down by his side and lifting his head with one hand while I gave it to him on the back of the other. My heart sank like a stone in deep water. The old familiar attitude, the old familiar act !—and yet how different in every point! The convulsive movements stopped immediately. He sat up almost at once on one elbow. The only sign of distress was that he still breathed heavily. All his anger, too, had disappeared. He seemed tired, like a convalescent, but as tractable as a child. He smiled faintly. I don’t know if he had any consciousness or memory of what had passed. He talked as if there had been no quarrel at all. The colour came back to his face, the light to his eyes. ‘‘One more go like that, Lou,” he said, ‘‘ and I’ll be all right.” I wasn’t at all sure what King Lamus would have said ; but it was my own responsibility, and I couldn’t refuse him. He went off to sleep very soon after. In the morning I found out what had happened to him. He had been round to some of the men he used to know in the hospital to get them to give him some H., but they hadn’t dared to do it.. They were suffering from a sense of insult about the new law, the Diabolical Dope Act. They had undergone a long and expensive training and had diplomas which made them responsible for the héalth of the community ; and now they weren’t allowed to prescribe for their own patients. It was natural enough that they should be indignant.