ing to him. His best friend was a disgusting sight, apparently not much better than a gibbering idiot And Hugh had shamefully abused his hospital! Norry was no longer gentle and boyish; he was (bitterly disillusioned.
“Get up,” he said briefly. “Get up and go to bed.”
“Tha’s my musher. You said it was n’t mymy musher.” Hugh looked up, his face wet with maudlin tears.
Norry leaned over and snatched the picture from him. “Take your dirty hands off of that,” he snapped. “Get up and go to bed.” “Tha’s my musher.” Hugh was gently persistent. “It’s not your mother. You make me sick. Go to bed.” Norry tugged at Hugh’s arm impotently; Hugh simply sat limp, a dead weight.
Norry’s gray eyes narrowed. He took a glass, (filled it with cold water in the bedroom, and then deliberately dashed the water into Hugh’s face. Then he repeated the performance. Hugh shook his head and rubbed his hands wonderingly over his face. “I’m no good,” he said almost clearly. “I’m no good.”
“You certainly are n’t. Come on; get up and go to bed.” Again Norry tugged at his arm, and this time Hugh, clinging clumsily to the edge of the table by which he was sitting, staggered to his feet.
