Tomaso's Fortune and Other Stories by Henry Seton Merriman
page 60 of 268 (22%)
page 60 of 268 (22%)
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alone, he moved towards the seat just vacated by his wife.
"Come and sit down," he said, "and I will tell you a little story." "Does she know it?" enquired Harkness, when they were seated. "No." "Then I don't want to hear it! You'd better keep it to yourself, I reckon." The Englishman gave a little laugh, and lapsed into silence-- thinking abstractedly. "I should like to tell you some of it, for my own sake. I don't want you to go away thinking--something that is not the fact." "I would rather not have the story," persisted Harkness. This American had some strange notions of a bygone virtue called chivalry. "Give me a few facts--I will string them together." Lord Storrel was sitting forward on his low chair, with his hands clasped between his knees. They were rather large hands--suggestive of manual labour. "Suppose," he said, without looking round, "that a man is in a street row in Dublin, when no one knows he is even in the town. Suppose the--eh--English side of the question is getting battered, and he hits out and kills a drunken beast of an Irish agitator. Suppose an innocent man is accused of it and the right chap is |
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