You must tell yourself that I
have won; and, having won, I bear no further malice. I would
even make some reparation on the shrine of my affection for Miss
Denistoun. She would esteem it, I feel sure, as a tribute.
. . . Dear me, how fast we are walking! . . . You'll excuse me
if I stop and take off this coat. . . . In the old days, as a
working-man, more than half my time I walked without a coat, and
an overcoat to this day always sets up a perspiration. . . .
Well now, shall we shake hands at the end of it all and cry
quits? . . . Say the word, and I'll go one better. They've
formed the syndicate for that island of ours. What do you say
to a thousand shares, and to coming in on the Board?'
"He was on the river side of me, quite close to the brink. I had
been playing for some minutes with the knife in my pocket; and
as I leapt on him and drove it in over the breast, he fell
straight backwards. All the end of Farrell was a gasp, a sharp
cry, and a splash.
"And both cry and splash were drowned instantly by the raging
yelp of the dog as he sprang for me.
Pages:
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510