So though he had reason to believe he was quite well, and in
Malaga with his 'honourable' and sickly cousin, he killed him off-hand,
and disposed summarily of his works.
There was an absolute silence of some seconds after this scandalous
explosion; and Devereux said--'In truth, Sir, I don't know. They hold
him capable of taking charge of my wise cousin--hang him!--so I dare say
he can take care of himself; and I don't see what the plague ill's to
happen him.'
The doctor's honest eyes opened, and his face flushed a little. But
reading makes a full man, not a quick one; and so while he was
fashioning his answer, the iron cooled. Indeed he never spoke in anger.
When on sudden provocation he carried his head higher and flushed a
little, they supposed he was angry; but if he was, this was all he
showed of the old Adam, and he held his peace.
So now the doctor looked down upon the table-cloth, for Devereux's
breakfast china and silver were still upon the table, and he marshalled
some crumbs he found there, sadly, with his finger, in a row first, and
then in a circle, and then, goodness knows how; and he sighed profoundly
over his work.
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