It's
the cause of civilisation, Piers. I preach it whenever I get the
chance; I wish I got it oftener. I stand for England's honour,
England's supremacy on sea and land. I st-tand----"
He tried to do so, to reach the bottle, which proved to be empty.
"Send for another, Biddy--the right Irish, my lass! Another bottle
to the glory of the British Empire! Piers, we'll make a night of it.
I haven't a bed to offer you, but Biddy'll give you a shake-down
here on the floor. You're the right sort, Piers. You're a
noble-minded, generous-hearted Englishman."
Mrs. Otway, with a glance at the visitor, only made pretence of
sending for more whisky, and Piers, after looking at his watch,
insisted on taking leave. Alexander would have gone with him to the
station, but Bridget forbade this. The patriot had to be content
with promises of another such evening, and Piers, saying
significantly "You will hear from me," hastened to catch his train.
CHAPTER VIII
When he awoke next morning from a heavy sleep, Piers suffered the
half-recollection of some reproachful dream. His musty palate and
dull brain reminded him of Alexander's whisky; matter, that, for
self-reproach; but in the background was something more. He had
dreamt of his father, and seemed to have discharged in sleep a duty
still in reality neglected; that, namely, of responding to the old
man's offer of advice respecting the use he should make of his
money.
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