THE TWO WOMEN
moanin’ of the bars when I put out to sea. I’ve patronized ’em—pretty freely since I struck my—present gait. Say, Goodall, of Memphis—if your doc has set your pegs so close—why don’t you—get on a big spree and go—to the devil quick and easy—like I’m doing?”
“A spree!” says Goodall, as one who entertains a new idea, “I never did such a thing. I was thinking of another way, but—”
“Come on,” invites the Ohioan, “and have some drinks. I’ve been at it—for two days, but the inf—ernal stuff won’t bite like it used to. Goodall, of Memphis, what’s your respiration?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Daily—temperature?”
“Hundred and four.”
“You can do it in two days. It’ll take me a—week. Tank up, friend Goodall—have
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