“I might be said to have some small concern in the matter,” Drumpipes observed, “seeing that I provide furnished lodgings for this beautiful experiment in combined philanthropy and instruction. But you’re drinking nothing.”
“No; I had my one glass before you came. I’m taking care of myself these days.”
“And high time, too!” admitted the candid friend. “I’ll not say you’ll not be the better for it.”
“Well, and don’t you see?” urged Mosscrop, with earnestness, “it’s just the fact of her being there yonder that makes it seem worth while to go to bed sober. It alters my whole conception of myself. It gives me entirely new ideas of what I ought to do. So long as I led this solitary life here there was nothing for me but to drink. But it’s different now.”
The Earl grinned. “And how long will you be content to have this improving influence radiated to you from across the passage?” he asked, with cynicism. “Supposing, of course, that I give up my rooms to the reform-dynamo, so to speak.”
“Oh, of course, no one is asking that of you. Obviously, your return makes other arrangements imperative.”
“What will the other arrangements be like?”
“That remains to be seen. But I’m quite clear about one thing. I will not turn back from what I have undertaken. She shall not know what want is, and she shall be respected. I swear that, Drumpipes; and I want you to remember it.”
“Oh, I respect her immensely already,” said the Earl. “By George, a girl must possess extraordinary qualities who can come out early and catch a Professor of Culdees off her own bat, and work him for a tenner, and then leave him to forswear whisky on one side of a passage while she sleeps the sleep of the just in borrowed apartments on the other. It’s really splendid, old man. I take off my hat to her.”
“Archie,” remarked David, slowly, “I’m smaller than you are, and no athlete, God knows; but if we have any more of that I will hit you in the eye, and chance it.”