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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

'N'
say, you sure had done him up some, which I wasn't nowise sad or peeved
about, no, sir! Me an' Bud's never been what you might call real
kittenish an' playful together. But it seems you ain't only soaked an'
throttled him good an' plenty, but he's gone an' let out t' you about
that guy Heine--an' consequently you've gotter be kept from opening y'r
mouth--see? Consequently it's you for a sudden an' hasty hike."
"Oh?" said Ravenslee again.
"Twice!" nodded the Spider, "with a F an' a L thrown in--that's what
you'll be, Geoff, if you try t' buck Bud an' th' gang. So here I've
shinnied up y'r fire escape to put ye wise an' lend a hand to make your
swift get-away."
Ravenslee sighed and settled his head more comfortably on his pillow.
"You think I ought to go, Spider?"
"I don't think--I know! Your number's up, Geoff--it's you against th'
field, an', bo--they're some field!"
"You think there's real danger, then?" enquired Ravenslee, staring up at
the fly-blown text with shining eyes.
"As real as--death, bo!"
"Not so long ago I regarded Death as my best friend--"
"How much?" demanded the Spider, suspending mastication.


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