"Don't you?"
"Nope. I go on parties sometimes--you know, about once a week, but I
only take two or three drinks. You and your friends keep on drinking all
the time. I should think you'd ruin your health."
Anthony was somewhat touched.
"Why, aren't you sweet to worry about me!"
"Well, I do."
"I don't drink so very much," he declared. "Last month I didn't touch a
drop for three weeks. And I only get really tight about once a week."
"But you have something to drink every day and you're only twenty-five.
Haven't you any ambition? Think what you'll be at forty?"
"I sincerely trust that I won't live that long."
She clicked her tongue with her teeth.
"You cra-azy!" she said as he mixed another cocktail--and then: "Are you
any relation to Adam Patch?"
"Yes, he's my grandfather."
"Really?" She was obviously thrilled.
"Absolutely."
"That's funny. My daddy used to work for him."
"He's a queer old man."
"Is he nice?" she demanded.
"Well, in private life he's seldom unnecessarily disagreeable."
"Tell us about him."
"Why," Anthony considered "--he's all shrunken up and he's got the
remains of some gray hair that always looks as though the wind were in
it.
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