Mr.McGowan was here, but I told him you wouldn't be home till late." "Yes, I saw him," replied Garry, dropping his voice suddenly to a monotone, an expression of pain followed by a shade of anxiety settling on his face: McGowan and his affairs were evidently unpleasant subjects.
At this instant the cry of a child was heard.

Garry roused himself and turned his head.
"Listen--that's baby crying! Better go to her, Cory." Garry waited until his wife had left the room, then he rose from, his chair, crossed to the sideboard, poured out three-quarters of a glass of raw whiskey and drank it without drawing a breath.
"That's the first to-day, Jack.

I dare not touch it when I'm on a strain like this.

Can't think clearly, and I want my head,--all of it.

There's a lot of sharks down in New York,--skin you alive if they could.