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Castle Richmond by Anthony Trollope
page 330 of 755 (43%)
the truth, Father Columb was not a nice-looking young man. He was
red-haired, slightly marked with the small-pox, and had a low
forehead and cunning eyes.

"Yes, it is a nice morning," said Herbert. "We don't expect anybody
else here, do we, Somers?"

"At any rate we won't wait," said Somers. So he sat down in the
arm-chair, and they all went to work.

"I am afraid, Mr. Somers," said Mr. M'Carthy from the other end of
the table, where he had constituted himself a sort of deputy
chairman, "I am afraid we are going on a wrong tack." The priest had
shuffled away his chair as he began to speak, and was now standing
with his hands upon the table. It is singular how strong a
propensity some men have to get upon their legs in this way.

"How so, Mr. M'Carthy?" said Somers. "But shan't we be all more
comfortable if we keep our chairs? There'll be less ceremony, won't
there, Mr. Townsend?"

"Oh! certainly," said Townsend.

"Less liable to interruption, perhaps, on our legs," said Father
Columb, smiling blandly.

But Mr. M'Carthy was far too wise to fight the question, so he sat
down. "Just as you like," said he; "I can talk any way, sitting or
standing, walking or riding; it's all one to me. But I'll tell you
how we are on the wrong tack. We shall never get these men to work
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