en years I had been blindly rushing upon my fate, yielding to the insidious lures of that deadly monster, food. It was too late. I was a ruminant biped for keeps. It was lobster salad to a doughnut that my life was going to be blighted by it.
"I continued to board at the Dugan tent, hoping that Mame would relent. I had sufficient faith in true love to believe that since it has often outlived the absence of a square meal it might, in time, overcome the presence of one. I went on ministering to my fatal vice, although I felt that each time I shoved a potato into my mouth in Mame''s presence I might be burying my fondest hopes.
"I think Collier must have spoken to Mame and got the same answer, for one day he orders a cup of coffee and a cracker, and sits nibbling the corner of it like a girl in the parlour, that''s filled up in the kitchen, previous, on cold roast and fried cabbage. I caught on and did the same, and maybe we thought we''d made a hit! The next day we tried it again, and out comes old man Dugan fetching in his hands the fairy viands.
"''Kinder off yer feed, ain''t ye, gents?'' he asks, fatherly and some sardonic. ''Thought I''d spell Mame a bit, seein'' the work was light, and my rheumatiz can stand the strain.''
"So back me and Collier had to drop to the heavy grub again. I noticed about that time that I was seized by a most uncommon and devastating appetite. I ate until Mame must have hated to see me darken the door. Afterward I found out that I had been made the victim of the first dark and irreligious trick played on me by Ed Collier. Him and me had been taking drinks together uptown regular, trying to drown our thirst for food. That man had bribed about ten bartenders to always put a big slug of Appletree''s Anaconda Appetite Bitters in every one of my drinks. But the last trick he played me was hardest to forget.