Sommers had drunk Chicago whisky for thirty-five years straight along, and never added to it the additional horror of Chicago water.

You see what his condition became, both physical and mental.

Many people tried to reform Sommers, because he was really a brilliant man; but it was no use.

Thirst had become a disease with him, and from the mental part of that disease, although his physical yearning is now gone of course, he suffers.
Sommers would give his whole future for one glass of good old Kentucky whisky.

He sees it on the counters, he sees men drink it, and he stands beside them in agony.