That Noble Thirst

WHAT a pleasure to follow a whim! At two o'clock in the morning, I got out of bed, went into the kitchenette and put rye, water and ice into an Old-Fashioned glass, then settled down beside the desk in my one-room apartment with the drink, a cigarette and a book. I felt delightfully secretive, splendidly adventurous. Outside my window, the city was quiet; the tall apartment houses were dark; the street lights shone on deserted sidewalks. All the dull conventional souls were asleep, while I was awake, one of the glorious company of free souls who have roistered through the ages with bottle in hand.