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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Peregrine's Progress"

" "Diana, what are we going to
do?"
"I thought we were going to Tonbridge?"
"I am."
"Well then, the sooner we starts the better."
"But," I demurred, rubbing my chin and staring hard at the toe of my
clumsy shoe, "don't you think it a little unwise--very extraordinary
and--yes, extremely irregular for--for two people of opposite sexes to
consort thus? Are not folk apt to misjudge our intimacy?"
"What folk?"
"Well, I mean the world."
"Lord, Peregrine, who's us for the world to trouble about?"
"I merely mention this because I dread lest I compromise you."
"What's compromise?"
"Well," I explained, lifting my gaze to the time-worn timbering above
my head, "people seeing us together might suppose we--we
were--lovers--"
"But we ain't!" she retorted, turning to look at me. "And never shall
be--shall we?"
"No!" said I with my gaze still turned upward. "Of course not! But
none the less people might think we were--were living together!"
"Well, so we are, ain't we?" she demanded.
"But," said I, staring at my shoe again, "suppose they imagine--"
"What, Peregrine?"
"Evil of us?"
"What matter, s' long as we knows different?"
"But I cannot bear that any should speak or even think evil of you,
Diana--"
"Never mind about me--though it's kind of you!" she added in that
suddenly soft, half-shy tone that I have before attempted to describe.
"Y' see," she continued, "nobody ever troubled themselves about me all
my life, except Jerry--or them as I keeps my little knife for.


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