"Right? Of course, he's right about you being a crack salesman. Why, you could sell corkscrews in Kansas," said Mr. Lum. "You got the stuff, all right. But the trouble is you can sell everything but yourself. Get busy! Act! Do something! Make a decision! Take a step!"
Mr. Braddy said nothing. Little lines furrowed his vast brow; he half closed his small eyes; his round face took on an intent, scowling look. He was thinking. Silence filled the cellar. Then, with the air of a man whose mind is made up, Hugh Braddy said a decisive and remarkable thing.
"Mr. Bill Lum," he said, "I'm going to get drunk!"
"What? You? Hugh Braddy? Drunk? My God!" The idea was too much even for the mind of Mr. Lum.
"Yes," said Mr. Braddy, in a hollow voice, like Cæsar's at the Rubicon, "I'm going to drink what's in that bottle this very night."
"Not all of it?" Mr. Lum, as an expert in such things, registered dismay.
"As much as is necessary," was the firm response. Mr. Lum brightened considerably at this.
"Better let me help you. There's enough for both of us. Plenty," he suggested.
"Are you sure?" asked Mr. Braddy anxiously.