Sturk stood, with his
face and figure mottled over with the shadows of the moving leaves and
the withered ones dropping about him, his hands in his pockets, and a
crown-piece--I believe it was his last available coin just then--shut up
fast and tight in his cold fingers, with his heart in his mouth, and
whistling a little to show his unconcern.
'Well,' said Sturk, 'he won't, of course?'
Cluffe shook his head.
'Very good--I'll manage it another way,' said Sturk, confidently.
'Good-night;' and Sturk walked off briskly towards the turnpike.
'He might have said "thank you," I think,' Cluffe said, looking after
him with a haughty leer--'mixing myself up in his plaguy affairs, and
asking favours of fellows like Nutter.' But just then, having reached
the corner next the Phoenix, Sturk hesitated, and Cluffe, thinking he
might possibly turn back and ask him for money, turned on his heel, and,
like a prudent fellow, trudged rapidly off to his lodgings.
Toole and O'Flaherty were standing in the doorway of the Phoenix,
observing the brief and secret meeting under the elm.
'That's Sturk,' said Toole.
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