There was another man with the distinguished
Billy, and Reed had not regarded the two for more than one second before
he discovered that they were both in a distinct state of intoxication.
In fact, Strong proclaimed the truth at once, false shame cast to the
winds. He threw his arm about Rex's neck with a force of affection
which almost knocked down the quartette.
"Recky," he bubbled, "good old Recky--bes' fren' ev' had--I'm drunk,
Recky--too bad. We're both drunk. Take's home." Rex glanced at his
cousin in dismay, and Strong repeated his invitation cordially. "Take's
home, Recky," he insisted, with the easy air of a man who confers an
honor. "'S up to you, Recky."
Rex looked at his frowning cousin doubtfully, pleadingly.
"It almost seems as if it was, doesn't it, Carty?" he said. "We can't
leave them like this."
"I don't see why we can't--I can," Reed asserted. "It's none of our
business, Rex, and we really haven't time to palaver. Come along."
[Illustration: "Recky," he bubbled, "good old Recky--bes' fren' ev'
had"]
The gentle soul of Rex Fairfax was surprisingly firm. "Carty, they'd be
arrested in five minutes," he reasoned. "It's a wonder they haven't
been already. And Billy's people--it would break their hearts. I know
some of them well, you see. I was with him only last week over in
Orange."
"Oh!" Reed groaned. "That Girl from Orange again." He opened his lips
once more to launch nervous English against this quixotism, but Strong
interposed.
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