[The Fighting Chance by Robert W. Chambers]@TWC D-Link bookThe Fighting Chance CHAPTER VIII CONFIDENCES 12/64
One of them, Tom O'Hara, joined them, slamming his crop on the desk beside Plank and spreading himself over an arm-chair, from the seat of which he forcibly removed Mortimer's feet without excuse. "Drink? Of course I want a drink!" he replied irritably to Fleetwood--"one, three, ten, several! Billy, whose weasel-bellied pinto was that you were kicking your heels into in the park? Some of the squadron men asked me--the major.
Oh, beg pardon! Didn't know you were trying to stick Mortimer with him.
He might do for the troop ambulance, inside! ...
What? Oh, yes; met Mr.Blank--I mean Mr.Plank--at Shotover, I think.
How d'ye do? Had the pleasure of potting your tame pheasants. Rotten sport, you know.
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