Diary of a Drug Fiend

Below the Brutes QOL name. The sight of it drove me almost insane with desire. Within a yard of my face was the symbol of victory. Cockie, Basil, the law, my own physical pangs :— they were allin my power from the moment my fingers closed over the bottle. I put out my hand; but the heroin had disappeared in the manner of a conjuring trick. McCall leant his weight on the back of my chair afd tilted it slightly. His ugly shrewd false face was within a foot of mine. “Will you really let me have that?” I faltered. “ Sir Peter’s very rich. We can afford to pay the price, whatever it is.’ He gave a funny little laugh. JI shrank from the long wolf-like mouth hanging over me greedily open, with its bared two white rows of sharp, long fangs. I was nauseated by the stale whisky in his breath. He understood immediately; let my chair back to its normal position, and went back to his desk. He sat there and watched me eagerly like a man stalking game. As if inadvertently, he took out the bottle and played with it aimlessly. In his smooth varnished voice he began to tell me what he called the romance of his life. The first time he saw me he had fallen passionately in love with me ; but he was a married man, and his sense of honour prevented his yielding to his passion. He had, of course, no love for his wife, who didn’t understand him at all. He had married her out of pity; but for all that he was bound by his sense of right feeling, and above all by realising that to give rein to his passion, God-given though it was, would mean social ruin for me, for the woman he loved. He went on to talk about affinities and soul-mates and love at first sight. He reproached himself for having told me the truth, even now, but it had been too strong for him. The irony of fate! The tragic absurdity of social restrictions!