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Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William), 1866-1921

"A Thief in the Night: a Book of Raffles' Adventures"

You
couldn't help yourself, with that poor brute in that state. And
I admired you immensely, Bunny, if that's any comfort to you now."
Comfort! It was wine in every vein, for I knew that Raffles meant
what he said, and with his eyes I soon saw myself in braver colors.
I ceased to blush for the vacillations of the night, since he
condoned them. I could even see that I had behaved with a measure
of decency, in a truly trying situation, now that Raffles seemed to
think so. He had changed my whole view of his proceedings and my
own, in every incident of the night but one. There was one thing,
however, which he might forgive me, but which I felt that I could
forgive neither Raffles nor myself. And that was the contused
scalp wound over which I shuddered in the train.
"And to think that I did that," I groaned, "and that you laid
yourself open to it, and that we have neither of us got another
thing to show for our night's work! That poor chap said it was as
bad a night as he had ever had in his life; but I call it the very
worst that you and I ever had in ours.


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