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Love-o’-Women
by
“‘Thrate me as a study, Docthor Lowndes,’ he sez; an’ that was the first time I’d iver heard a docthor called his name.
“‘Good-bye, Terence,’ sez Love-o’-Women. “Tis a dead man I am widout the pleasure av dyin’. You’ll come an’ set wid me sometimes for the peace av my soul.’
“Now I had been minded to ask Cruik to take me back to the Ould Rig’mint, for the fightin’ was over, an’ I was wore out wid the ways av the bhoys in the Tyrone; but I shifted my will, an’ hild on, an’ wint to set wid Love-o’-Women in the hospital. As I have said, Sorr, the man bruk all to little pieces undher my hand. How long he had hild up an’ forced himself fit to march I cannot tell, but in hospital but two days later he was such as I hardly knew. I shuk hands wid him, an’ his grip was fair strong, but his hands wint all ways to wanst, an’ he cud not button his tunic.
“‘I’ll take long an’ long to die yet,’ he sez, ‘for the ways av sin they’re like interest in the rig’mintal savin’s-bank – sure, but a damned long time bein’ paid.’
“The docthor sez to me quiet one day, ‘Has Tighe there anythin’ on his mind?’ he sez. ‘He’s burnin’ himself out.’
“‘How shud I know, Sorr?’ I sez, as innocent as putty.
“They call him Love-o’-Women in the Tyrone, do they not?’ he sez. ‘I was a fool to ask. Be wid him all you can. He’s houldin’ on to your strength.’
“‘But (what ails him, docthor,’ I sez.
“‘They call ut Locomotus attacks us,’ he sez, ‘bekaze,’ sez he, ‘ut attacks us like a locomotive, if ye know fwhat that manes. An’ ut comes,’ sez he, lookin’ at me, ‘ut comes from bein’ called Love-o’-Women.’
“‘You’re jokin’, docthor,’ I sez.
“‘Jokin’!’ sez he. ‘If iver you feel that you’ve got a felt sole in your boot instead av a Government bull’s-wool, come to me,’ he sez, ‘an’ I’ll show you whether ’tis a joke.’
“You would not belave ut, Sorr, but that an’ seein’ Love-o’-Women overtuk widout warnin’ put the cowld fear av attacks us on me so strong that for a week an’ more I was kickin’ my toes against stones an’ stumps for the pleasure av feelin’ them hurt.
“An’ Love-o’-Women lay in the cot (he might have gone down wid the wounded before an’ before, but he asked to stay wid me), aud fwhat there was in his mind had full swing at him night an’ day an’ ivry hour av the day an’ the night, an’ he withered like beef rations in a hot sun, an’ his eyes was like owls’ eyes, an’ his hands was mut’nous.
“They was gettin’ the rig’mints away wan by wan, the campaign bein’ inded, but as ushuil they was behavin’ as if niver a rig’mint had been moved before in the mem’ry av man. Now, fwhy is that, Sorr? There’s fightin’ in an’ out nine months av the twelve somewhere in the Army. There has been – for years an’ years an’ years, an’ I wud ha’ thought they’d begin to get the hang av providin’ for throops. But no! Ivry time it’s like a girls’ school meetin’ a big red bull whin they’re goin’ to church; an’ ‘Mother av God,’ sez the Commissariat an’ the railways an’ the Barrick- masters, ‘fwhat will we do now?’ The ordhers came to us av the Tyrone an’ the Ould Rig’mint an’ half a dozen more to go down, and there the ordhers stopped dumb. We wint down, by the special grace av God – down the Khaiber anyways. There was sick wid us, an’ I’m thinkin’ that some av them was jolted to death in the doolies, but they was anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to Peshawur alive the sooner. I walked by Love-o’-Women – there was no marchin’, an’ Love-o’-Women was not in a stew to get on. ‘If I’d only ha’ died up there!’ sez he through the doolie-curtains, an’ then he’d twist up his eyes an’ duck his head for the thoughts that came to him.