He had been, until he saw that picture.
He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his longing.

He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual "morning after" headache, and laughed ruefully.
"Same here," he said.

"I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish half the booze you did." Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and swallowed three times before he stopped.
"Gee!" whispered Frank, a little enviously.
Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest speculatively.
"I'm going to get drunk again," Bud announced bluntly.

"If you don't want to, you'd better duck.

You're too easy led--I saw that last night.
You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with.