[A Dash from Diamond City by George Manville Fenn]@TWC D-Link bookA Dash from Diamond City CHAPTER ONE 4/8
He had stood rubbing first one rifle and then the other with a slightly-oiled rag to get rid of specks of rust or dust, every now and then stealing a glance at the absurdly screwed-up face, feeling the while that a good hearty laugh would do him good, but determined to maintain his composure so as not to hurt the performer's feelings.
But the double-tonguing was too much. _Tootle-too, tootle-too, tootle, tootle-too_ went the performer, running up the gamut till he reached the octave and was about to run down again, but he stopped short, lowered his instrument, and turned from a warm pink to a deep purply crimson, for West suddenly burst out into a half-hysterical roar of laughter, one which he vainly strove to check. "I--I--I--I beg your pardon," he cried at last. "Thank you," snorted out Anson; "but I don't see anything to laugh at." "I couldn't help it, Anson.
You did look so--so comic.
Such a face!" "Did I ?" cried the musician angrily.
"Such a face, indeed! You should see your own.
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