BOOK THE FIRST: THE CUP AND THE LIP
Chapter 12: The Sweat of an Honest Man's Brow (continued)
The blast went by, and the moon contended with the fast-flying
clouds, and the wild disorder reigning up there made the pitiful
little tumults in the streets of no account. It was not that the wind
swept all the brawlers into places of shelter, as it had swept the
hail still lingering in heaps wherever there was refuge for it; but
that it seemed as if the streets were absorbed by the sky, and the
night were all in the air.
'If he has had time to think of it,' said Eugene, he has not had time
to think better of it--or differently of it, if that's better. There is no
sign of drawing back in him; and as I recollect this place, we must
be close upon the corner where we alighted that night.'
In fact, a few abrupt turns brought them to the river side, where
they had slipped about among the stones, and where they now
slipped more; the wind coming against them in slants and flaws,
across the tide and the windings of the river, in a furious way.
With that habit of getting under the lee of any shelter which
waterside characters acquire, the waterside character at present in
question led the way to the leeside of the Six Jolly Fellowship
Porters before he spoke.
'Look round here, Lawyer Lightwood, at them red curtains. It's
the Fellowships, the 'ouse as I told you wouldn't run away. And
has it run away?'
Not showing himself much impressed by this remarkable
confirmation of the informer's evidence, Lightwood inquired what
other business they had there?
'I wished you to see the Fellowships for yourself, Lawyer
Lightwood, that you might judge whether I'm a liar; and now I'll
see Gaffer's window for myself, that we may know whether he's at
home.'
With that, he crept away.
'He'll come back, I suppose?' murmured Lightwood.
'Ay! and go through with it,' murmured Eugene.
He came back after a very short interval indeed.
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