the wrist to the elbow, were small blue circles around tiny dark blue punctures. The circles almost touched one another. “That’s trie new development,” William Campbell said. “I drink a little now once in a while, just to drive the wolf out of the room.”
“They got a cure for that,” “Sliding Billy” Turner said.
“No,” William Campbell said. “They haven’t got a cure for anything.”
“You can’t just quit like that, Billy,” Turner said. He sat on the bed.
“Be careful of my sheet,” William Campbell said.
“You can’t just quit at your age and take to pumping yourself full of that stuff just because you got in a jam.”
“There’s a law against it. If that’s what you mean.”
“No, I mean you got to fight it out.”
Billy Campbell caressed the sheet with his lips and his tongue. “Dear sheet,” he said. “I can kiss this sheet and see right through it at the same time.”
“Cut it out about the sheet. You can’t just take to that stuff, Billy.”
William Campbell shut his eyes. He was beginning to feel a slight nausea. He knew that this nausea would increase steadily, without there ever being the relief of sickness, until something were done against it. It was at this point that he suggested that Mr. Turner have a drink. Mr. Turner declined. William Campbell took a drink from the bottle. It was a temporary measure. Mr. Turner watched him. Mr. Turner had been in this room much longer than he should have been, he had many things to do; although living in daily association with people who used drugs, he had a horror of drugs, and he was very fond of William Campbell; he did not wish to leave him. He was very sorry for him and he felt a cure might help. He knew there were good cures in Kansas City. But he had to go. He stood up.
“Listen, Billy,” William Campbell said, “I want to tell you something. You’re called ‘Sliding Billy.’ That’s because you can
