Diary of a Drug Fiend

212 The Diary of a Drug Fiend could see how ill we had been, but all that was gone. Decision and self-confidence had come back; and love had come back with them. I could feel love mingling its turbulent torrent with my blood like the junction of the Rhone and the Arve in Geneva. We walked into a shop and bought a car on the spot, and took it away then and there. There was one at the Grange, but we wanted a racer. We drove back to Greek Streetin a flood of delight. It was a bright, fresh autumn morning; everything had recovered its tone. Winter could never come. There was no night except as a background for the moon and the stars, and to furnish the scenery of our heavenly hell. September 17 The Grangeis certainly the finest housein the world. There is only one drawback. We didn’t want callers. County society is all rightin its way; but tigers don't hunt in packs, especially on the honeymoon. So we had to send the word around that the precarious state of my health made it impossible for us to receive. Rather an obvious lie, motoring the way we were. The ‘plane had come back from Deal, but we didn’t do any flying. Cockie gave various reasons; but they were un- convincing. We roared with laughter at their absurdity. The truth was that he was nervous. . It didn’t make us ashamed. After what he had done, he could rest on his oars. It was only temporary, of course. We'd made ourselves rottenly ill in that gaga placein Greek Street. We couldn’t expect to get back to the top of our form in a week. Besides, we didn’t want that kind of excitement. We had enough in other ways. We found we could see things. That ass, Basil, was always talking about the danger of magic, and precaution, and scientific methods and all that bunk. We were seeing more