"Rush it out then. My throat is as full of alkali dust as these windows."
The porter soon appeared with a tray full of cotton-topped glasses. The day was hot and the alkali dust very oppressive, and the beer was cold. Dr. Temple looked on it when it was amber, and suffered himself to be bullied into taking a glass.
He felt that he was the greatest sinner on earth, but worst of all was the fact that when he had fallen, the forbidden brew was not sweet. He was inexperienced enough to sip it and it was like foaming quinine on his palate. But he kept at it from sheer shame, and his luxurious transgression was its own punishment.
The doleful Mallory was on his way to join the "club". Crossing the vestibule he had met the conductor, and had ventured to quiz him along the old lines:
"Excuse me, haven't you taken any clergymen on board this train yet?"
"Devil a one."
"Don't you ever carry any preachers on this road?"
"Usually we get one or two. Last trip we carried a whole Methodist convention."
"A whole convention last trip! Just my luck!"
The unenlightened conductor turned to call back: "Say, up in the forward car we got a couple of undertakers. They be of any use to you?"