He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. I am dreadfully sad. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away.
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