"Go 'way."
A hand on his shoulder. The voice brisk, cheerful. "Come now--the
gutter is no place for a man of your caliber."
Lee grunted and rolled over. Someone who knew him evidently; someone
echoing the myth of his "brilliance". "I said get the hell--" He opened
an eye. If this was an old friend, the man had gone out of memory.
Plump, cheerful, rosy-faced, well-cut clothes. A man with an air of
confidence.
And something more.
It was the _something more_ that stopped Lee from swinging at the man's
plump chin after allowing himself to be lifted to his feet. The man
looked critically into Lee's face as the latter swayed. He took a snowy
handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped filth from Lee's face in the
manner of one wiping the face of a child. "I think you need a drink,
young fellow."