The Old Reporter
cils." Billy, whose pride had been stung much more than they imagined, had been trying to pour sparkle and human interest into his stuff by means of a few more drinks, hurriedly snatched on the way to the office, "just to get into the mood," he told himself. "My digestion is all off to-day, anyhow."
He knew the danger of this. He knew it as well as do some physicians. He could demonstrate with the technical terms very glibly just why it was especially to be avoided by a man with a temperament like his. He wrote a Sunday special upon this.
IV
The time had come for Billy Woods to learn something he had never believed in since a boy; something that was to wipe out many of the effects of his ill-assorted knowledge, replace belief in other good things, putting him in tune with Nature once more and keeping him warm and normal—for life, perhaps … But she died … Maybe it was just as well.
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