But the young gentleman was not in the habit of denying
himself innocent indulgences, and shaking himself loose of Toole, he
walked down the dark side of the street in peals of laughter, making,
ever and anon, little breathless remarks to himself, which his colleague
could not hear, but which seemed to have the effect of setting him off
again into new hemi-demi-semiquavers and roars of laughter, and left the
doctor to himself, to conduct the negociation with Loftus.
'Well?' said Devereux, by this time recovering breath, as the little
doctor, looking very red and glum, strutted up to him along the shady
pavement.
'Well? _well?_--oh, ay, _very_ well, to be sure. I'd like to know what
the plague we're to do now,' grumbled Toole.
'Your precious armour-bearer refuses to act then?' asked Devereux.
'To be sure he does. He sees _you_ walking down the street, ready to die
o' laughing--at _nothing_, by Jove!' swore Toole, in deep disgust;
'and--and--och! hang it! it's all a confounded pack o' nonsense. Sir, if
you could not keep grave for five minutes, you ought not to have come at
all. But what need _I_ care? It's Nutter's affair, not mine.
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