The Tiger Lily
By George Manville Fenn
18 Nov, 2019
“Hallo, Sawbones!”
The speaker raised his head from the white pillow of the massive, old-fashioned four-post bed, and set the ornamental bobs and tags of the heavy bullion fringe upon the great cornice quivering. He was a sharp-faced, cleanly
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“Hallo, Sawbones!”
The speaker raised his head from the white pillow of the massive, old-fashioned four-post bed, and set the ornamental bobs and tags of the heavy bullion fringe upon the great cornice quivering. He was a sharp-faced, cleanly shaven man, freshly scraped, and the barber who had been operating was in the act of replacing his razor and strop as these words were spoken to the calm, thoughtful-looking person who entered the substantially furnished room.
“Good morning, Mr. Masters. Had a quiet night?”
“Bah! You know I haven’t. How is a man to have a good night when ten thousand imps are boring into him with red-hot iron, and jigging his nerves till he is half-mad! Here, you: be off!”
“Without brushing your hair, sir?”
“Brush a birch broom! My head never wants brushing. You know that.” Less