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Updated: June 13, 2025
It is for Bessie, papa Bessie Stewart, Mr. Munro's dear little fiancée" Escaping as quickly as possible from Mr. Meyrick's neatly turned felicitations and that the satisfaction he expressed was genuine I was prepared to believe hurried home to Sackville street.
Robert stayed chatting a moment or two, knowing perfectly well what Meyrick's gay garrulity meant. A sharp and bitter sense of the ironies of life swept across him. The squire humanised, influenced by him he knew that was the image in Meyrick's mind; he remembered with a quiet scorn its presence in his own.
Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter: but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness and meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: an excellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was not afraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a striped waistcoat. He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm.
Meyrick's invaluable collection of ancient arms, has preserved any specimen.
But I found I could not be alone; and the last people who came drove me nearly wild those R s, Fanny Meyrick's friends and they talked about her and about you, so that I could bear it no longer. I wanted to hide myself from all the world. I knew I could be quiet at the Shaker village.
Robert stood hat in hand, tormented with a dozen crosscurrents of feeling. He was forcibly struck with the blind and comparatively motiveless pugnacity of the squire's conduct. There was an extravagance in it which for the first time recalled to him old Meyrick's lucubrations. 'I have done no good, I see, Mr. Wendover, he said at last, slowly.
There was another house besides the white house at Pennicote, another breast besides Rex Gascoigne's, in which the news of Grandcourt's death caused both strong agitation and the effort to repress it. It was Hans Meyrick's habit to send or bring in the Times for his mother's reading.
It is for Bessie, papa Bessie Stewart, Mr. Munro's dear little fiancée." Escaping as quickly as possible from Mr. Meyrick's neatly turned felicitations and that the satisfaction he expressed was genuine I was prepared to believe hurried home to Sackville street.
"I don't like to deny you what you ask, father; but I have given a promise not to do things for you in secret. It is hard to see you looking needy; but we will bear that for a little while; and then you can have new clothes, and we can pay for them." Her practical sense made her see now what was Mrs. Meyrick's wisdom in exacting a promise from her. Lapidoth's good humor gave way a little.
Meyrick's family so as to leave her father to suppose that it was through these friends Deronda had become acquainted with her. She could not persuade herself to more completeness in her narrative: she could not let the breath of her father's soul pass over her relation to Deronda.
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