Anson filled himself with whiskey that morning, and going to the office, carried on his work without a break-rather with a fear of what would happen if he stopped. In the evening he went out as usual, saying nothing of what had occurred; he was cordial, humorous, unabstracted. But one thing he could not help-for three days, in any place, in any company, he would suddenly bend his head into his hands and cry like a child