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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Peregrine's Progress"

Vaguely, at the back of my mind,
was a memory of some trouble now forgotten, nor did I seek to
remember, content to stare out upon this summer evening; nor did I
trouble to move even at the opening of the door and thus presently was
aware of Anthony bending over me.
"Why, Perry, are you awake at last? How are you, old fellow?"
"Very well, Anthony," I answered, vaguely surprised to hear my voice
so far off, as it were. "Very comfortable, Tony, only--a little
weary--"
"And no wonder, Perry, here you've lain raving all last night and most
of to-day."
"Raving, Tony?"
"Aye--all about some damned postchaise or other with red wheels."
"Postchaise?" said I, wondering. "Postchaise? How long have I lain
here?"
"This will be the fourth day, Peregrine."
"Four days!" said I. "Impossible!"
"I rode down yesterday on the off-chance of finding you here--and here
you were, begad, raging in fever and cursing and swearing very
creditably, 'pon my soul! And all George could do to hold you down--"
"I'm better now, Anthony--get up to-morrow--"
"For which God be thanked!" said he fervently, and seating himself
upon the bed, he grasped my hand. "Peregrine," said he solemnly, "you
have honoured me with your friendship and as your friend I make bold
to offer you a friend's advice,--in heaven's name, old fellow, be more
discreet!"
"In what particular, Anthony?"
"There is but one, Perry--only one, dear fellow, and spelt with five
letters--woman.


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