He lied to himself no longer, but uttered a song of despair that was true enough. What should he do? Where should he go? From what fountain should he attempt to draw such small draughts of the water of comfort as might support him at the present moment? Unless a man have some such fountain to which he can turn, the burden of life cannot be borne. For the moment, Vavasor tried to find such fountain in a bottle of brandy which stood near him. He half filled a tumbler, and then, dashing some water on it, swallowed it greedily. "By ----!" he said, "I believe it is the best thing a man can do."

What should he do? Where should he go? From where might he find comfort to support him?
Vavasor turned to a bottle of brandy which stood near, half filled a tumbler, and swallowed it greedily. "By --!" he said, "I believe it is the best thing a man can do."
