He'll probably drink himself to death because of it, too.

Of course you know that he is completely down and out?
Little more than a common bum and street loafer." "He--he doesn't like whiskey," said she, after a moment.
"One doesn't have to like it to drink it, you know." "He could stop it if he tried." "Like a flash.

But he isn't going to try.

At least, not until he feels that it's worth while." She looked up quickly.

"What do you mean by that ?" Without waiting for him to answer, she went on: "How can you expect me to do anything to help him?
I am sorry for him, but--but, heavens and earth, Simmy, I can't preach temperance to a man who kicked me out of his house when he was sober, can I ?" "You loved him, didn't you ?" She flushed deeply.