Old Betteredge made a guess at the cause, I
remember. But that is hardly worth mentioning."
"Pardon me. Anything is worth mentioning in such a case as this.
Betteredge attributed your sleeplessness to something. To what?"
"To my leaving off smoking."
"Had you been an habitual smoker?"
"Yes."
"Did you leave off the habit suddenly?"
"Yes."
"Betteredge was perfectly right, Mr. Blake. When smoking is a habit
a man must have no common constitution who can leave it off suddenly
without some temporary damage to his nervous system. Your sleepless
nights are accounted for, to my mind. My next question refers to Mr.
Candy. Do you remember having entered into anything like a dispute
with him--at the birthday dinner, or afterwards--on the subject of his
profession?"
The question instantly awakened one of my dormant remembrances in
connection with the birthday festival. The foolish wrangle which took
place, on that occasion, between Mr. Candy and myself, will be found
described at much greater length than it deserves in the tenth
chapter of Betteredge's Narrative. The details there presented of the
dispute--so little had I thought of it afterwards--entirely failed to
recur to my memory.
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