CHAPTER III
THE VOICE OF VIRTUE
Basi had gone out of town ; but he turned up on the
fifth day at eleven o'clock in the morning, and he came
in his most serious professional manner. After a very
brief greeting, he went straight to the charts and in-
spected them attentively.
Lou and I both felt very uncomfortable. He noticed
it at once.
“You've still got heroin on the brain, I see,” he
remarked severely. ‘‘ You insist on considering your-
selves as naughty children instead of as pioneers of
humanity undertaking a desperate adventure for the
good of the race.”
I began a-sort of apology; I don’t quite know for
what.
“Nonsense,” he interrupted. “I know perfectly
well why you’re ashamed of yourself. You’ve had what
you call a relapse. After getting down to five, six and
seven doses, you’ve suddenly gone back. Yesterday,
I see, Lou had fourteen and you sixteen—more than
you were taking ever since you have been in this place.
You think that’s a bad sign. I don't.
“To begin with, you’ve been honest with yourselves ;
and that’s the thing that matters most. Then it’s a
good sign again that the daily variation is as large as it
is. I’d much rather see “ two eighteen”’ than “ eight
eight” in spite of the four extra doses. And that for
exactly the same reason as applies to the hourly
distribution.
“Tt’s the same with drink. The man who goes on
the bust occasionally is very much easier to manage
than the steady soaker. Every child in the Fourth
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