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Updated: April 30, 2025
"Salvation, was it, and a new life?" he inquired, "are you the one to be saved, Ronald, or Smivvle here, or both?" Ronald Barrymaine was dumb, his eyes sought the floor, and his pale cheek became, all at once, suffused with a burning, vivid scarlet. "I couldn't help but overhear as I came upstairs," pursued Mr. Chichester pleasantly, "and devilish dark stairs they are "
Smivvle stooped to set a cushion beneath the restless head, he started suddenly back, staring wide-eyed and pointing with a shaking finger. "My God!" he whispered, "what's that? Look look at his coat." "Yes," said Barnabas, "we must have it off." "No, no it's too awful!" whimpered Mr. Smivvle, shrinking away, "see it's it's all down the front!"
Smivvle spoke again: "One! Two! Three " A flash, a single deafening report, and Ronald Barrymaine lurched sideways, caught at the wall, swayed backwards into the corner and leaned there. "Coward, you fired too soon!" cried Smivvle, turning upon Mr. Chichester in sudden frenzy, "Villain! Rouge! you fired too soon !" "S-stand away, Dig!" said Barrymaine faintly. "Oh, Barry you're bleeding!
Smivvle gave it a fierce wrench, loosed it, and clenching his fist, smote himself two blows in the region of the heart. "Sir," said he, "you behold in me a deserted and therefore doleful ruminant chewing reflection's solitary cud. And, sir, it is a bitter cud, cursedly so, wherein the milk of human kindness is curdled, sir, curdled most damnably, my dear Beverley!
"Ah!" said Barnabas, chin in hand, "but why?" "Well, you'll remember that the only time you met him he was inclined to be just a l-ee-tle violent, perhaps?" "When he attacked me with the bottle, yes!" sighed Barnabas, "but surely that was only because he was drunk?" "Y-e-s, perhaps so," said Mr. Smivvle, fumbling for his whisker again, "but this morning he wasn't so drunk as usual." "Well?"
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