Thomas ordered his fifth glass of ale, and saw Jameson's head sink forward a little.

Thomas' sigh almost split his heart in twain.

Jameson's head went up suddenly, and with a drunken smile he reached for the bottle and poured out a stiff potion.
He drank it neat.
Thomas wiped his palms on his sleeves and ordered a cigar.
"Lonesome ?" asked the swart bartender.

This good-looking chap was rather a puzzle to him.

He wasn't waiting for anybody, and he wasn't trying to get drunk.