" He much wished to make Erle
understand that the debt was not his own,--that he was not in the
hands of usurers in reference to his own concerns. But there was a
feeling within him that he still,--even still,--owed something to his
friendship to Fitzgibbon. "Just give me your arm, and come on with me
for a minute," said Phineas. "Erle will excuse us."
"Oh, blazes!" said Laurence, "what is it you're after? I ain't good
at private conferences at three in the morning. We're all out, and
isn't that enough for ye?"
"I have been dreadfully annoyed to-night," said Phineas, "and I
wished to speak to you about it."
"Bedad, Finn, my boy, and there are a good many of us are
annoyed;--eh, Barrington?"
Phineas perceived clearly that though Fitzgibbon had been dining,
there was as much of cunning in all this as of wine, and he was
determined not to submit to such unlimited ill-usage. "My annoyance
comes from your friend, Mr. Clarkson, who had the impudence to
address me in the lobby of the House."
"And serve you right, too, Finn, my boy. Why the devil did you sport
your oak to him? He has told me all about it. There ain't such a
patient little fellow as Clarkson anywhere, if you'll only let him
have his own way. He'll look in, as he calls it, three times a week
for a whole season, and do nothing further.
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