“As he took his seat— “And where,” he said, “does this skunkish slow-belly dwell? What vicinity does he defile?” “Besse,” I said. “I told you. But Ulysse says he’ll be at the café from five o’clock on.” “In the Street of the Waterfall?” “That’s right.” “And you advise instant action?” “Yes. We need rough stone – not for building, but for packing behind the semicircular wall. We’ve enough for today and tomorrow, but after that we shall have to use quarried stone, which is wicked waste. That blast...ed ruin is built of stones from the river bed. Once it’s ours, we’ve only got to push it, to knock it down: and there’s ten loads of stone all ready to hand.” “And he was boasting on Friday that he would sell us that dunghill for five hundred pounds?” “That’s right. And somebody laughed and said, ‘How much shall you give your aunt?’ And he shut up like a box and looked very grim.” The fellow’s name was Saut. He owned the scarecrow field.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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