"I—I was drunk last night, wasn't I?" he asked anxiously.
The poet affected not to have heard the question, but Tommy persisted.
"Yes."
Tommy sighed.
"I say," he said, after a pause, "I—I'd have licked that fellow hollow if my head hadn't been so jolly queer."
The poet looked at him, curiously.
"I expect you would," he said.
Tommy took a deep breath, and looked straight at the poet.
"I'll never touch it again—never," he said slowly.