within and without, and then comes drowsiness and
sleep. Men seem to live for sleep. How little of a
man's day is his own -- even at the best! And then
come those false friends, those Thug helpers, the
alkaloids that stifle natural fatigue and kill rest --
black coffee, cocaine --"

"I see," said Isbister.

"I did my work," said the sleepless man with a
querulous intonation.

"And this is the price?"

"Yes."

For a little while the two remained without speaking.

"You cannot imagine the craving for rest that I
feel -- a hunger and thirst. For six long days, since
my work was done, my mind has been a whirlpool,
swift, unprogressive and incessant, a torrent of
thoughts leading nowhere, spinning round swift and
steady --"

He paused. "Towards the gulf."

"You must sleep," said Isbister decisively, and
with an air of a remedy discovered. "Certainly you
must sleep."