The Fog Princes by Florence Warden

Rees meanwhile was spending his Christmas at his lodgings in St. Martin's-lane, with the faithful Sep Jocelyn for company. Sep was still as much outwardly devoted as ever to his more brilliant friend; but the fast life they were leading, acting upon a constitution already weakened by former excesses, was telling upon him even more plainly than upon the younger man. Sep was losing his nerve. As he sat with Rees by the fire on the evening of Christmas Day, heavy with late sleep and with a drinking bout of the previous night, every slight noise made by a movement of his companion, or by the traffic in the street outside, caused him to start, and sometimes to shiver. He had grown much older looking during the past year; his face was swollen and puckered about the eyes, while the threads of grey in his fair hair had multiplied into wide white streaks. His starts and tremors began to irritate Rees, who put out his hand to stop Sep as the latter was about to help himself from a decanter which stood on the table.

"That will do, Sep. Goodhare will be here in a minute to settle our next plans, and you'll want all your wits about you."