He opened his cigarette case and offered her a smoke. She declined.
"Well, not altogether… My friend Hilmer worked a compromise… I'm going to a place to sober up." He laughed bitterly.
She folded her hands. "One of those private sanitariums, I suppose, where rich guys bluff it out until everything blows over."
"No, you're wrong again… I'm going summering in a state hospital."
Her hands, suddenly unclasped, lifted and fell in startled flight. "An insane asylum?" she gasped. He leaned forward. "Why do you say that?"
"Because it's the only place in this state where they send drunks… I know plenty who've been through that game… You can't tell me anything about that."
He stared at her in silence and presently she said:
"What are they doing to you, anyway? Railroading you? I don't believe you know where you are going."
He shrugged wearily. "No; you're right. And I don't much care."
"Why didn't you send for me?" she demanded. "That night when they got you I told you I had a pull… I'm not a Hilmer, but I can work a few people myself… I haven't always been a cheap skate. There was a time when I had them fighting over me. And that wasn't so long ago, either… I'm still young—younger than a lot that get by. But, anyway, I've got a lot of old-memory stuff up my sleeve that can make some people step about pretty lively… There's more than one man in this town who would just as soon I kept my mouth shut… I could even run Hilmer around the ring once or twice if I wanted to."