With much difficulty he half dragged, half carried the drooping figure up the stairway to the second floor.
“What floor do you live on?” he asked. “Is this it?”
“Yep.”
Rather than face an irate wife who might, perhaps, take him for a companion more at fault than her spouse, he opened the first door he came to and pushed the limp figure in.
The good Samaritan groped his way downstairs again. As he was passing through the vestibule he was able to make out the dim outlines of another man, apparently in worse condition than the first one.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Are you drunk, too?”
“Yep,” was the feeble reply.
“Do you live in this house, too?”
“Yep.”
“Shall I help you upstairs?”