He passed a shaking hand across his eyes, trying to brush away the film of cobweb which hung there. But his hand passed through it, and the film remained.
Blagden looked at him curiously. "Better pull up a bit, Tubby," he admonished. "You don't want a session with the D. Ts. I know just how you feel, but wait till you've had a bath and a bracer, and you'll be all right again. In fact, you've got to be all right again; this is the night we're going out to Danforth's for a time with those girls from the south. Had you forgotten?"
"By Jove, I had," Mills acknowledged. But at the thought of Danforth and the pictures he had shown them, the embers of gorged and glutted lust began to glow again. "Well," he said more cheerfully, "this will be a bit different from the usual thing. Besides that, we'll be in the country. What a damnable place the city is. You know, Blagden," he went on confidentially, gazing straight before him, "sometimes lately I catch myself doing something I've never done before; I keep thinking back to when I was a kid. I suppose that's a sign I'm growing old. Why, darn it all, I can remember the room I used to have, and the little white bed, and the long summer nights with the crickets singing away outside in the moonlight, and there I'd lie awake, kind of wondering what it was all about, anyway, and thinking how fine it would be to grow up to be a man. And now--"
His voice died away. "You've got the same idea," observed Blagden, "as the man who said that the country boy comes to the city and works hard all his days to earn enough so that at the end of his life he can go back and live in the country again."
"And he was right!" cried Mills. "That's the absolute truth. This money game is all rot. I want the country again. The grass and the brooks and the trees, the singing of the birds, the sweep of the sky over the hills, sunrise and sunset--Oh God--oh God--"
Once more he passed his hand over his burning eyes. Blagden, rising, walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "There, there," he said not unkindly, "I never knew _you_ had nerves. We'd better send you away for a week; I can look after things here."
With an effort, Mills regained control of himself. "Confound it all," he cried, "I must be in poor shape to act like this. Excuse me, Blagden, I'm all right now." Then, as another thought struck him, he added, "But think of this fellow Danforth that we've been so thick with. How on earth does he stand it? He's no athlete; he's not half my size. But he's stayed with us for two weeks; drink for drink; girl for girl. And I swear he's as fresh as when we started. How do you account for that?"