“Mr. Harper,” she said sharply, slowly, trying to drive her words into his dulled brain, “I’ve got to speak to you! At once!”
He continued to blink at her stupidly. At length his lips opened.
“Miss West,” he said thickly.
She shook him fiercely.
“Pull yourself together! I’ve got to speak to you!”
At this moment Mr. Murphy, who had gone once more behind his bar, reappeared bearing a glass. This he held out to Harper.
“Here, Billy, put this down. It’ll help straighten you up.”
Harper took the glass in a trembling hand and swallowed its contents.
“And now, Miss,” said the bartender, putting Harper’s dry hat on him, “the thing to do is to get him out in the cold air, and walk him round a bit. I’d do it for you myself,” he added gallantly, “but everybody’s down at the Square and there ain’t no one here to relieve me.”