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Updated: June 18, 2025
Lammle's friends, coarse and thick-lipped, with fingers so covered with rings that they could hardly hold their gold pencils do they remind us of anybody? Mr. Fledgeby, with his little ugly eyes and social flashiness and craven bodily servility might not some fanatic like M. Drumont make interesting conjectures about him?
'Since you presume to contradict me, I'll assert myself a little. Give me your nose! Fledgeby covered it with his hand instead, and said, retreating, 'I beg you won't! 'Give me your nose, sir, repeated Lammle.
That's too much. Mr Fledgeby said this with some display of indignant warmth, as if he was counsel in the cause for Virtue. 'How can I prevent his having his own way? began the dressmaker. 'Deep way, I called it, said Fledgeby. His own deep way, in anything? 'I'll tell you, said Fledgeby. 'I like to hear you ask it, because it's looking alive.
So I make so free, Miss Jenny, as to offer the remark, that you and Judah were too thick together to last. You can't come to be intimate with such a deep file as Judah without beginning to see a little way into him, you know, said Fledgeby with a wink. 'I must own, returned the dressmaker, with her eyes upon her work, 'that we are not good friends at present.
They both looked at it as it blazed, went out, and flew in feathery ash up the chimney. 'NOW, Mr Fledgeby, said Lammle, as before; 'am I to understand that you in any way reflect upon me, or hint dissatisfaction with me, in this affair? 'No, said Fledgeby. 'Finally and unreservedly no? 'Yes. 'Fledgeby, my hand.
'Have you heard this opera of to-night, Fledgeby? he asked, stopping very short, to prevent himself from running on into 'confound you. 'Why no, not exactly, said Fledgeby. 'In fact I don't know a note of it. 'Neither do you know it, Georgy? said Mrs Lammle. 'N-no, replied Georgiana, faintly, under the sympathetic coincidence.
It was an edifying spectacle, the young man in his easy chair taking his coffee, and the old man with his grey head bent, standing awaiting his pleasure. 'Now! said Fledgeby. 'Fork out your balance in hand, and prove by figures how you make it out that it ain't more. First of all, light that candle.
I mean I'll tell you something else. 'Tell me anything, old fellow! 'Ah, but there you misunderstand me again, said Fledgeby. 'I mean I'll tell you nothing. Mr Lammle sparkled at him, but frowned at him too. 'Look here, said Fledgeby. 'You're deep and you're ready. Whether I am deep or not, never mind. I am not ready. But I can do one thing, Lammle, I can hold my tongue.
'Why, what time of night do you mean to call it? inquired Fledgeby, turning away beneath the clothes, and presenting a comfortable rampart of shoulder to the chilled figure of the old man. 'Sir, it is full half-past ten in the morning. 'The deuce it is! Then it must be precious foggy? 'Very foggy, sir. 'And raw, then?
Seemingly the conversation was not meant for her ears, but Mr. Fledgeby had planned that she should hear it, and that it should have the very effect upon her which it had. This was Mr. Fledgeby's retort upon Miss Wren for the over-sharpness with which she always treated him, and also a pleasant instance of his humor as regarded the old Jew.
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