"Dopey, I tell you truth—confide in you," said Stover, slipping down beside him. "Swear."
"Swear."
"Never tell."
"Never!"
"I'm unhappy."
"No!"
"Drink to forget, y'understand."
"Must stop it," said McNab, firmly closing one eye, and gazing fearfully at the yellow owls in front.
"Going to shtop it," said Stover, "soon—stop soon—promise."
"Promish?"