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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

I got him a segar, drew in a chair to the
side of the fire, and installed him there--I was going to say, at
his ease, but no expression could be farther from the truth. He
was plainly on pins and needles, did not know whether to take or to
refuse the segar, and, after he had taken it, did not know whether
to light or to return it. I saw he had something to say; I did not
think it was his own something; and I was ready to offer a large
bet it was really something of Major Chevenix's.
'Well, and so here you are!' I observed, with pointless cordiality,
for I was bound I should do nothing to help him out. If he were,
indeed, here running errands for my rival, he might have a fair
field, but certainly no favour.
'The fact is,' he began, 'I would rather see you alone.'
'Why, certainly,' I replied. 'Rowley, you can step into the
bedroom. My dear fellow,' I continued, 'this sounds serious.
Nothing wrong, I trust.'
'Well, I'll be quite honest,' said he. 'I AM a good deal
bothered.'
'And I bet I know why!' I exclaimed. 'And I bet I can put you to
rights, too!'
'What do you mean!' he asked.
'You must be hard up,' said I, 'and all I can say is, you've come
to the right place. If you have the least use for a hundred
pounds, or any such trifling sum as that, please mention it.


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