I'm in a hurry." The other wagged his head: "_You_ won't last long if you keep this up.

The--hic!--trouble with you is that you can't get decently drunk.

You just turn blue and white.

That's what's--matter--_you_! And it kills the kind of--hic!--of man you are.

B-b'lieve me," he added shedding tears, "I'm fon' 'v' you, Ber--hic!--kley." He shed a few more scalding tears, waved his hand in resignation, bowed his head, caught sight of his own feet, regarded them with surprise.
"Whose ?" he inquired naively.
"Yours," said Berkley reassuringly.