At Love's Cost
Stafford laughed. He had got down and dragged out a rod and a fishing-basket.
"Sorry, old chap," he said, "but no fisherman could lose such a chance as this, even to save his best friend from rheumatic fever. I thought we should come across a stream or two, and I put on these togs accordingly." He wore a Norfolk suit of that wonderful Harris tweed which, strange to say, keeps out the rain, the heat, and the cold; and flies were stuck in his cap of the same material. "But, look here, there's no need for me to keep you; Pottinger will drive you to this place, Carysford, where we stay the night--I'v