"Look
here!" he said. "I'm going to put you to bed."
Guy, with his arms on the table, looked up at him and laughed.
"Oh, rats! I'm all right. Can't you see I'm all right? Well, I
must have some tea first anyway. I've been promised tea."
"I'll bring you your tea in bed," Burke said.
But Guy protested. "No, really, old chap. I must sit up a bit
longer. I'll be very good. I want to hear all Kelly's news. I
believe I shall have to go back to Brennerstadt with him to paint
the town red. I'd like to have a shot at that diamond. You never
know your luck when the devil's on your side."
"I know yours," said Burke drily. "And it's about as rotten as it
can be. You've put too great a strain on it all your life."
Guy laughed again. He was in the wildest spirits. But suddenly in
the midst of his mirth he began to cough with a dry, harsh sound
like the rending of wood. He pushed his chair back from the table,
and bent himself double, seeming to grope upon the floor. It was
the most terrible paroxysm that Sylvia had ever witnessed, and she
thought it would never end.
Several times he tried to straighten himself, but each effort
seemed to renew the anguish that tore him, and in the end he
subsided limply against Burke who supported him till at last the
convulsive choking ceased.
He was completely exhausted by that time and offered no
remonstrance when Burke and Kelly between them bore him to the
former's room and laid him on the bed he had occupied for so long.
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