Diary of a Drug Fiend

68 The Diary of a Drug Fiend always the way with girls—they never know what’s enough. And then I realised with startling suddenness that the case was not confined to the frailer sex. I got out just in time. If I pass over in silence the events of the next hour, it is not because of the paucity of incident. At its conclusion we were seated once more at the table. We took little sips of very old Armagnac; it pulled us together. But all the virtue had gone out of us; we might have been convalescents from some very long and wasting illness. “‘ There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” said Feccles, with his curious little laugh. “A trifling indiscretion.” I winced at the word. It took me back to King Lamus. I hated that fellow more than ever. He had begun to obsess me. Confound him |! Lou had confided the whole story to our host, who admitted that he was familiar with these matters. “You see, my dear Sir Peter,” he said, “‘ you can’t take H. like you can C., and when you mix your drinks there’s the devil to pay. It’s like everything else in life; you’ve got to find out your limit. It’s very dangerous to move about when you're working H. or M., and it’s almost certain disaster to eat.” I must admit I felt an awful fool. After all, I had studied medicine pretty seriously; and this was the second time that a layman had read me the Riot Act. But Lou nodded cheerfully enough. The brandy had brought back the colour in her cheeks. “ Yes,’’ she said, ‘‘ I’d heard that all before, but you know it’s one thing to hear a thing and another to go through it yourself.” _ ‘* Experience is the only teacher,” admitted Feccles. ‘ All these things are perfectly all right, but the main thing is to go slow at first, and give yourself a chance to learn the ropes.” All this time Haidée had been sitting there like a statue. She exhaled a very curious atmosphere. There