We turned into our apartment,
roused the sleepy hall-boy, and rode up.
"I suppose people think I never rest," remarked Kennedy, carefully
avoiding any reference to the exciting events of the past two
days. "But I do. Like every one else, I have to. When I am working
hard on a case--well, I have my own violent reaction against it--
more work of a different kind. Others choose white lights, red
wines and blue feelings afterwards. But I find, when I reach that
state, that the best anti-toxin is something that will chase the
last case from your brain by getting you in trim for the next
unexpected event."
He had sunk into an easy chair where he was running over in his
mind his own plans for the morrow.
"Just now I must recuperate by doing no work at all," he went on
slowly undressing. "That walk was just what I needed. When the
fever of dissipation comes on again, I'll call on you. You won't
miss anything, Walter."
Like the famous Finnegan, however, he was on again and gone again
in the morning. This time I had no misgivings, although I should
have liked to accompany him, for on the library table he had
scrawled a little note, "Studying East Side to-day.
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