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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Peregrine's Progress"

"
"How much money should you require, Anthony?"
At this he turned to stare with an expression of whimsical dubiety and
thereafter fell to rubbing his unshaven chin as rather at a loss.
"Let us say fifty guineas--no, we'll make it a hundred while we're
about it--a hundred guineas would do the thing admirably--though to be
sure much might be done with less."
"I have only eighteen pounds," said I, thrusting hand into pocket;
"which will leave nine for you--"
"Hey!" he exclaimed, stopping in his sudden fashion. "What's
this--what the devil--I say, curse and confound everything, man, what
d'ye mean?"
"Being both solitary wanderers, we will share equally so far as we
may--"
"No--not to be thought of--preposterous--"
"So I ask you to honour me by accepting these nine pounds--"
"I'll be shot if I do!"
"They may help you to--"
"To my drunken dissolution? Ridiculous! Nine pounds' worth would never
do it, I'm so infernally healthy and strong! Nine accursed, miserable
pounds--what use to a drinker such as I?"
"Many, Anthony, and I think I can guess one of the first--"
"And that?"
"To procure yourself a shave!"
"Egad!" cried he with a sudden, merry look, "I believe you're in the
right of it! A stubbly chin makes a man feel such a pernicious,
scoundrelly, hangdog walking misery."
"Precisely!" said I, holding out the nine pounds. "So take your money,
Anthony."
"Positively no!" said he, scowling down at the coins.


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