"Teddy," I remarked, "if you'll take my advice you'll go home to bed. Just now poker's not your line."
"I'm not feeling very well," he said. "I hate this game; it makes me ill. Let's play something else."
"We will. We'll sing 'Rock-a-by, baby,' and play at going to sleep. Come along, Teddy, let me offer you the temporary loan of my arm."
Archie interposed.
"Hang it, Reggie, you're not going! Put the beggar to sleep alongside Gravesend on the rug."
"I'm not going to sleep on the rug," said Teddy, "I hate the rug."
We compromised, putting him to bed on the couch in Archie's bedroom. It seemed unlikely that he would fall off, since he was asleep before we had the whole of him laid down. While we were together in the bedroom, I said a private word to Archie.
"If you'll hearken to the wisdom of the wise, old man, you'll cut it. You're not in the vein."
He chose to misunderstand my meaning.
"Do you mean I'm drunk?"