"Oh no," said Willys, "you're a little hard on him. You can't stop a man drinking because he occasionally drives his car, drunk. Give him a good fine and take away his license. Or, if he is very drunk, put him where he can sober up."
"That wouldn't," I said, "quite straighten things out—would it—for the occupants of the car that went by here?"
"Oh, but Professor, you are so unrealistic," said Willys, as he rose and clapped a hand over his mouth in order to eject a yawn which he could not swallow. "You are hopelessly unrealistic. If a man doesn't drive when he's drunk, now and then, how in the dickens is he going to get home? What time is it?"
"It's half-past one," said Cornelia, who had also risen at the first opportunity. "And there's the telephone. See what it is, Oliver—quickly, quickly! But nothing could have happened to them—my son is such a careful driver."
