"Prob'bly did, Matt," was the pious reply. "If all his kind was shut up there'd be less crime in the papers. I put it off and put it off, but I ought to do it and do it soon."
The carpenter regarded the speaker in silence for some moments. Gayne's eyes were closing and opening sleepily.
"Now, see here, man. You go in the house and sleep this off. I'll take the boy down-along with me."
"I won't allow it," Gayne shook his head. "Women at the house pamperin' him. I won't have it. He'll stay where I am till I get him settled for life."
"I'm goin' to take the boy along with me," repeated Blake, speaking louder. "You're in no state for him to see you. Where'd you get your stuff, anyway?"
"Chemist p'esc'iption," said Gayne, as his companion drew him along at as swift a pace as possible.
"Well, next time, drink out o' your own mud puddle. I think it comes from the lower regions, anyway. You might as well be getting used to it."
Gayne laughed, but rather feebly. He was beginning to wonder just what he had said to his friend.
Matt got him into the house and into the lop-sided armchair where he had found him, and he fell asleep at once. Then the carpenter took the partly filled glass from the table and held it up to the light.