Chapter 35

The waiter brought in the two old-fashioneds. “As I was saying,” Stephen went on, “my own philosophy is that I shall find a drunkard’s grave as warm as any other. But I didn’t ask you to dinner to talk about myself. I want to talk about you. I don’t recommend my way out for you. It takes a special constitution . . . Lisbeth for God’s sake don’t look so broken. It hurts me to look at you. I’d be sympathetic instead of being hard-boiled, keed, but that wouldn’t be any use either.” She said, “I suppose not. You talk. …