52 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
And that’s really very much the same spirit.
“ Heart of my heart, come out of the rain,
Let’s have another go of cocaine.”
I know I don’t count when it comes to poetry, and
the distinguished authoress can well afford to smile,
if it’s only the society smile, and step quietly over my
remains. But I really have got the spirit of the thing.
“ Always go on till you have to stop,
Let’s have another sniff, old top!”
No, that’s undignified.
“Carry on! over the top!”
would be better. It’s more dignified and patriotic, and
expresses the idea much better. And if you don’t like
it, you can inquire elsewhere. ,
No, I won’t admit that we were reckless. We had
substantial resources at our command. There was
nothing whatever of the “long firm” about us.
You all know perfectly well how difficult it is to
keep matches. Perfectly trivial things, matches—
always using them, always easy to replace them, no
matter at all for surprise if one should find one’s box
empty; and I don’t admit for one moment that I
showed any lack of proportion in the matter.
Now don’t bring that moonlight flight to Paris up
against me. I admit I was out of gas; but every one
knows how one’s occupation with one’s first love affair
is liable to cause a temporary derangement of one’s
ordinary habits.
What I liked about it was that evidently Gretel was
a jolly good sport, whatever people said about her.
And she wasn’t an ordinary kind of good old sport
either. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t admit
that she is what you may call a true friend in the