The whisky bottle which had been corked was upon the floor unbroken and about a third full.

I took a good pull at the spirit; to me it tasted like nectar from the gods.

Then I tried to force some down Bickley's throat but could not, so I poured a little upon the cut on his head.

The smart of it woke him in a hurry.
"Where are we now ?" he exclaimed.

"You don't mean to tell me that Bastin is right after all and that we live again somewhere else?
Oh! I could never bear that ignominy." "I don't know about living somewhere else," I said, "although my opinions on that matter differ from yours.