n days; may be to-morrow. It's according to how long I
stay sober."

I was sorry that he had recalled to me the name of Phyllis. It
dampened my sociability. I was not yet prepared to take him into my
confidence. The ale, however, loosened our tongues, and though we did
not talk about our present affairs we had a pleasant time recounting
the days when we were young in the sense that we had no real trouble.
Those were the times when we were earning fifteen and twenty the week;
when our watches were always in durance vile; when we lied to the poor
washerwoman and to the landlady; when we would always be "around
to-morrow" and "settle up" with our creditors.

"There was no ennui those days," laughed Hillars.

"True. Do you remember the day you stayed in bed because it was
cheaper to sleep than work on an empty stomach?"

"And do you remember the time I saved you from jail by giving the
Sheriff my new spring overcoat to pay a washerwoman's bill of six
months' standing?"

"I hung around Jersey City that day," said I. And then there was more
ale; and so on. It was nine when at last we rose.

"Well, we'll go back to the office and get your case," said Dan.
"Where's your trunk?"

"At the Victoria."

"All your luggage must be sent to my rooms. I will not hear of your
going elsewhere for lodging while in town. I have a floor, and you
shall share it. It's a bachelor's ranch from basement to garret,
inhabited by artists, journalists, one or two magazine men, a clever
novelist, and three of our New York men. There is no small fry save
myself. We have little banquets every Friday night, and they sometimes
last till Saturday noon. I've taught the Frenchman who represents the
Paris _Temps_ how to play poker, and he threatens to become my
Frankenstein, who will eventually devour me." Hillars laughed, and it
sounded like the laughter of other days. "Jack, I think you will do me
good. Stay with me and keep me away from the bottle if you can. No
man drinks for pure love of liquor. My father never loved it, and God
knows what he was trying to forget. For that's the substance of it
all, to forget. When you start out to the point of forgetfulness, you
must keep it up; regret comes back threefold with soberness. It seems
silly and weak for a man who has been buffeted as I have, who is
supposed to gather wisdom and philosophy as a snowball gathers snow as
it rolls down hill, to try to drown regret and disappointmen