"Ches, I believe, with all my care to give you the treatment I
thought you needed, I've failed to point out the most potent
remedy of all."

Chester shook his head. "You've done everything, Red. All
the trouble's with me. I'm so pitiably weak - so much weaker
than I ever dreamed I could be. I can't seem to care whether
I get out of this or not. All I want is to lie down and go to
sleep - and never wake up."

The last words came under his breath, but Burns heard them.
He showed no sign of being startled, though this mood was a
gloomier one than he had yet seen his patient succumb to.
Instead, he went on talking in a tone of confidence:

"I ought to have known enough to apply this remedy, because
it's one I've tried myself. If you could know, since the
night you heard me make a certain vow, what a time I've had
with myself to keep it, you'd understand that I know what it
means to try to break up a habit. Mine's the habit of years.
With my temper and some of my associations, intemperate
profanity's been the easiest thing in the world to fall into.
When things went wrong, out would come the oaths like water
out of a spring - though that's a false comparison: like the
filth out of a sewer, I'd better say."

"We all swear more or less," acknowledged Chester, his head in
his hands.