Campbell: "Why, if McIlheny should happen to come back alone, we
mustn't wait for him to renew his invitation to drink; we must take
him out ourselves, and get him drunk; so drunk he can't remember
anything; stone drunk; dead drunk. Or, that is, _you_ must. I haven't
got anything to do with him. I wash my hands of the whole affair."

Roberts: "You mustn't, Willis! You know I can't manage without you.
And you know I can't take the man out and get him drunk. I couldn't. I
shouldn't feel that it was right."

Campbell: "Yes, I know. You'd have to drink with him; and you've got
no head at all. You'd probably get drunk first, and I don't know what
I should say to Agnes."

Roberts: "That isn't the point, Willis. I couldn't ask the man to
drink; I should consider it immoral. Besides, what should you do if
the cook came while I was away? You wouldn't know her."

Campbell: "Well, neither would you, if you stayed."

Roberts: "That's true. There doesn't seem to be any end of it, or any
way out of it. I must just stay and bear it."

Campbell: "Of _course_ you must stay. And when McIlheny comes back,
you'd better ask him out to look upon the wine when it is red."

Roberts: "No; that's impossible, quite. I shouldn't mind the
association--though it isn't very pleasant; but to offer drink to a
man already--Do you suppose it would do to ask him out for a glass of
soda? Plain soda would be good for him. Or I could order claret in