"Another bottle of champagne," said Nestley in a thick voice, coming close to her. "You are a pretty girl."
He tried to embrace her, but Margery, who was used to seeing the rustics in a similar state, pushed him away with a hearty laugh, and went off to get the wine.
Nestley resumed his seat at the table, talking rapidly to Beaumont about all sorts of things, and then began to boast about himself.
"I can do anything--anything, I tell you," he said, looking at Beaumont, who was smoking. "My brain's worth a dozen of any other fellows' Don't you believe me?"
"Oh, yes, I believe you," replied Beaumont, as Margery returned with another bottle of champagne; "but, if I were you, I'd take no more wine."
"Won't I!" said Nestley in a defiant manner. "You'll see."
Margery retreated, laughing at the maudlin condition of the young man, and filling his tumbler up to the brim with wine, he drank it off with an air of drunken bravado. Beaumont, with a sneer on his thin lips, sat calmly watching the grotesque antics of the man he had brought so low, and only took a little of the second bottle. Dr. Nestley sang and laughed and boasted till his legs began to get shaky, and then he sat down and finished the rest of the bottle, thereby reducing himself to a state of hopeless intoxication.
Finally he fell asleep with his head on the table, whereupon Beaumont, not without some difficulty, woke him up and half led, half dragged him to the sofa. With noisy protests that he was all right, the unhappy young man lay down, and in a few moments fell into a drunken slumber, while Beaumont, feeling no compunction at having reduced a human being to the level of the beast, stood over him with a sneer.
"I don't think you'll give me much trouble," he said serenely. "You've started on the downward path once more, and this time I expect you'll never get back again."
He went out, calmly smoking his cigarette, and asked Margery to let no one disturb his friend.