"Pat's a strong guy. He carried you upstairs all by himself."
"I've been slugged by strong guys before. Believe it or not. But it never felt like this afterwards. I feel as if I'd been drugged."
"You could have been. You were drinking."
"I was cheat-drinking. I poured the last one myself. But Zellermann could have slipped something into my glass."
"I suppose he could have, in the commotion... Stay awake, Simon. You must!"
"I'm still awake. That's how I know. If I'd had it all, you wouldn't have been able to rouse me now. Hogan stopped that by slugging me. But Zellermann still thought I'd sleep it off. I would have, too, if you hadn't worked on me."
"Simon, are you making sense now?"
"I'm- doing everything in the wide world I can." It was still an unforgettable effort to speak concisely and intelligibly. "Give me a chance, baby. I'm working at it. I never was drunk tonight. I sound like it now, but I wasn't."
She was close to him and holding him, her face against his, as if she was trying to transmit her life and wakefulness to him from every inch of her body.
It seemed like a long time; and through all of it he was working through fluctuating waves of awareness to cling on to the wandering balloon that was his only actual link to this other world that he had to keep touch with against all the cruel violation of a dream and the fumes of a drug that kept creeping back to try and steal away his will.