"Perhaps. But I shall do my duty. And if I can cure you I'll sell my practice and go elsewhere. To South America, perhaps."
"Scandal travels. You would never get away from it. Better stay here with your friends, who will not visit my sins on your head. They will never desert you. And you cannot cure me. Did you ever know any one to be cured against his will?"
"I shall lock you in these rooms and you can't drink what you haven't got."
"I've circumvented you before and I shall again."
"Then," he cried violently, "I'll put you in the Home for Inebriates!"
She laughed mockingly. "You'll never do anything of the sort. And I shouldn't care if you did. I should escape."
"Have you no pride left?"
"It is as dead as everything else but this miserable shell. As dead as all that was great in Langdon Masters. Won't you let me die in my own way?"
"I will not."
She sighed and moved her head restlessly on the pillow. "You mean to do what is right, I suppose. But you are cruel, cruel. You condemn me to live in torment."