"How'd you get on with Margarita?" he asked Snorky when they retired for the night.
"Margarita's a pippin!" said Snorky.
"I squared you all right."
"You bet you did! She came right up and fed out of my hand. But, say, they swallowed it all right."
"What?"
"The dead game sporting life stuff."
"Yes, I know. Got a cig?"
"What? Oh yes. Get you one in a jiffy. But say. Go easy. The governor and all that sort of thing, you know."
"Nerves sort of jumpy to-night," said Skippy languidly. "Need a few whiffs to quiet 'em down."
It was something new in his life, a good influence. All his better nature rose up in response. So summoning up his courage, he lit a cigarette and tried to inhale—a desperate character, worthy to be saved, certainly ought to inhale! It was nauseating. It stung his lungs and set his head to reeling. He left the window and crawled over to the bed where he lay weak but unconquered.