“Do you think he⁠—?”

“I don’t know,” I told her, “and I reckon you’re right. There’s no use talking about it. The thing to do is drink, though there doesn’t seem to be much body to this gin.”

“That’s you, not the gin. Do you want an honest to God rear?”

“I’d drink nitroglycerine tonight.”

“That’s just about what you’re going to get,” she promised me.

She rattled bottles in the kitchen and brought me in a glass of what looked like the stuff we had been drinking. I sniffed at it and said:

“Some of Dan’s laudanum, huh? He still in the hospital?”

“Yes. I think his skull is fractured. There’s your kick, mister, if that’s what you want.”