"Ax your pardon, sir--" said the red-faced man at last, rasping shaven
chin with tankard rim, "but if you could manage to talk a little less
furrin'--more plain English-like?"
"I mean I will buy more beer for you--and any one else who--"
"D'ye hear that, landlord?" cried a voice. "The genelman do mean pots
all round!"
"Do ye mean that same, sir?" enquired the landlord, glooming and
doubtful.
"I will pay for as many pots as they can drink, for good-fellowship's
sake," said I, and laid down a coin.
"Spoken like a true sportsman, sir!" exclaimed the down-at-heels
gentleman. "Sir Oswald, permit me to bring to your notice one
Anthony--myself, once blooming gayest of the gay, now, alas! a faded
blossom, cankered, sir, blighted, yet not to be trodden upon with
impunity and always your most obliged, humble servant!" Here he paused
to lift the brimming tankard the gloomy landlord had just set before
him and bow to me across the creamy foam. "Sir Oswald, your health!"
said he. "And may heaven preserve you from these three fatal
F's--fathers, friends and females!" Having said which, he drank
thirstily and thereafter sat frowning down at his broken boots beneath
the brim of his woebegone hat, apparently lost in bitter thought. And
beholding him thus, his flippancy forgotten, his air of dashing
ferocity laid aside, I saw he was pale and thin and haggard and much
younger than I had thought. Suddenly, chancing to meet my eye, his
pale cheeks flushed painfully, then, squaring his drooping shoulders,
he smote his hat more over one eye than ever, nodded gaily, sprang
lightly to his feet and gripped at the table to steady himself.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54