Diary of a Drug Fiend

92 The Diary of a Drug Fiend price is that we live by labour, and—‘‘ In his eyes foreknowledge of death. Feccles caught my thought. He quoted .with slow emphasis :— “ He weaves and is clothed with derision, Sows. and he shall not reap. His life is a watch or a vision, Between a sleep and a sleep.” The thought of the great Victorian seemed to chill him. He. threw off his depression, lighting a cigarette and taking a strong pull at his brandy. “‘ Haidée,”’ he said, with assumed lightness, ‘‘ lives in open sin with a person named Baruch de Espinosa. I think it’s Schopenhauer who calls him ‘Der Gott- betrunkene Mann.’ ” “ The God-intoxicated man,”’ murmured Lou faintly, shooting a sleepy glance at Haidée from beneath her heavy blue-veined eyelids. : “Yes,’’ went on Feccles. “‘ She always carries about one of his books. She goes to sleep on his words; and when her eyes open, they fall upon the page.” He tapped the table as he spoke. His quick intuition had understood that this strange incident was dis- quieting to us. He wriggled his thumb and forefinger in the air towards the waiter. The man interpreted the gesture as a request for the bill, and went off to get it. ‘“* Let me drive you and Sir Peter back to your hotel,” said our host to Lou. “You've had a rather rough time. I prescribe a good night’s rest. You'll find a dose of H. a very useful pick-me-up in the morning, but, for Heaven’s sake, don’t flog a willing horse. Just the minutest sniff, and then coke up gradually when you begin to feel like getting up. By lunch time you'll be feeling like a couple of two-year-olds.” He paid the bill, and we went out. As luck would have it, a taxi had just discharged a party at the door. So we drove home without. any trouble.