[Simon Dale by Anthony Hope]@TWC D-Link bookSimon Dale CHAPTER VIII 14/23
And friend Darrell was no madman. "Do I know ?" I asked.
"Do I know what? What could I, Simon Dale, know? What in Heaven's name is there to know ?" And I smiled cunningly, as though I sought to hide knowledge by a parade of ignorance. "Nothing, nothing," he muttered uneasily.
"The wine's got into my head." "Yet you've drunk but two glasses; I had the rest," said I. "That damned Ranter has upset me," he growled.
"That, and the talk of your cursed witch." "Can Ranters and witches make secrets where there are none ?" said I with a laugh. "They can make fools think there are secrets where there are none," said he rudely. "And other fools ask if they're known," I retorted, but with a laugh; and I added, "I'm not for a quarrel, secret or no secret, so if that's your purpose in sitting the night through, to bed with you, my friend." Whether from prudence, or whether my good humour rebuked his temper, he grew more gentle; he looked at me kindly enough and sighed, as he said: "I was to be your guide in London, Simon; but you take your own path." "The path you shewed me was closed in my face," said I, "and I took the first that was opened to me." "By the Duke of Monmouth ?" "Yes--or by another, if it had chanced to be another." "But why take any, Simon ?" he urged persuasively.
"Why not live in peace and leave these great folk alone ?" "With all my heart," I cried.
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