CHAPTER XXXVII.
SHOWING HOW SOME OF THE FEUDS IN CHAPELIZOD WAXED FIERCER, AND OTHERS WERE SOLEMNLY CONDONED.
By this time little Dr.Toole had stepped into the club, after his wont, as he passed the Phoenix.

Sturk was playing draughts with old Arthur Slowe, and Dangerfield, erect and grim, was looking on the game, over his shoulder.

Toole and Sturk were more distant and cold in their intercourse of late, though this formality partook of their respective characters.

Toole used to throw up his nose, and raise his eyebrows, and make his brother mediciner a particularly stiff, and withal scornful reverence when they met.

Sturk, on the other hand, made a short, surly nod--'twas little more--and, without a word, turned on his heel, with a gruff pitch of his shoulder towards Toole.
The fact was, these two gentlemen had been very near exchanging pistol shots, or sword thrusts, only a week or two before; and all about the unconscious gentleman who was smiling in his usual pleasant fashion over the back of Sturk's chair.