The Jazz Age Prescription
The gin was bad—that was the first thing Tommy understood when his grandmother collapsed. Bad gin, or worse gin, poured from a bottle that would never bear a label, served in a glass that had probably been washed in water that would have failed every standard the medical board had established since the war. He was twenty-one and a third-year law student at Columbia, and he had learned nothing...
0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews