"Come in with me," said Isbister, "and try some cigarettes and the blessed gift of alcohol.
If you take alcohol ?" The stranger hesitated at the garden gate.

He seemed no longer aware of his actions.

"I don't drink," he said slowly, coming up the garden path, and after a moment's interval repeated absently, "No--I don't drink.

It goes round.

Spin, it goes--spin--" He stumbled at the doorstep and entered the room with the bearing of one who sees nothing.
Then he sat down heavily in the easy chair, seemed almost to fall into it.