He paused for a second in the ray of candle-light that gleamed through Puddock's window-shutter, and glanced on the pale dial of his large gold watch.

It was only half-past eight o'clock.

He walked on, glancing back over his shoulder, along the Dublin road.
'The drunken beast.

My mind misgives me he'll disappoint,' muttered the silver spectacles, gliding briskly onward.
When he reached the main street he peered curiously before him under the village tree, in quest of carriage lights.
'A lawless brute like that may be before his time as well as after.' So he walked briskly forward, and up Sturk's door-steps, and knocked.
'The Dublin doctor hasn't come, eh ?'--he asked.
'No, Sir, he isn't come yet--'twas nine o'clock, the mistress told me.' 'Very good.

Tell Mrs.Sturk, pray, that I, Mr.Dangerfield, you know, will call, as I promised, at nine o'clock precisely.' And he turned again and walked briskly over the bridge, and away along the Inchicore road overhanging the river.