"
Mr Cupples threw glass and all into the fire.
"That's my fareweel libation to the infernal Bacchus," he said. "Lat it
gang to swall the low o' Phlegethon. But eh! it's a terrible
undertakin'. It's mair nor Hercules himsel' could hae made onything o'.
Bantam! I hae saicrifeesed mysel' to you. Haud to your pairt, or I
canna haud to mine."
It was indeed a terrible undertaking. I doubt whether either of them
would have had courage for it, had he not been under those same
exciting influences???-which, undermining all power of manly action, yet
give for the moment a certain amount of energy to expend. But the
limits are narrow within which, by wasting his capital, a man secures a
supply of pocket-money. And for them the tug of war was to come.
They sat on opposite sides of the table and stared at each other. As
the spirituous tide ebbed from the brain, more and more painful visions
of the near future steamed up. Yet even already conscience began to
sustain them. Her wine was strong, and they were so little used to it
that it even excited them.
With Alec the struggle would soon be over. His nervous system would
speedily recover its healthy operations.
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