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"Her Tissot gone will she still work her wonders? Still of base Grios and the weak alloys red bridegrooms make? Still kind Anne, your hand!" Silence! Silence again. What were they doing? Claude, full of suspicion, turned to see what it meant; turned to learn what it was on which the greedy eyes of his table-fellow were fixed so intently. And now he saw, more or less.
A sudden suspicion darting through his mind, he took his brother by the shoulders and shook him vigorously. "Gregory, you fool, you have drunk overdeep in my absence." "I have, I have," wailed Gregory, "and, my God, 'twas he was my table-fellow, and set me the example." "Like enough, like enough," returned Joseph, with a contemptuous laugh.
I was meditating in what way this grisly featured table-fellow might most safely be accosted, when he turned to me with a surly sort of kindness, and invited me to take a glass of wine. We then began a conversation that abounded, on his part, with sturdy sense, and, somehow or other, brought me closer to him than I had yet stood to an Englishman.
What that was he could not conceive, what it could be he could not conceive: nor had he long to consider the question. He found the shifty eyes of his table-fellow fixed upon him, and, though the moment his own eyes met them they were averted, he fancied that they sped a glance of intelligence to the table behind him, and he hastened to curb, if not his feelings, at least the show of them.
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