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Updated: June 17, 2025
Turveydrop is so sorry," said Caddy, "that he has not finished dressing yet and cannot have the pleasure of seeing you before you go. You are such a favourite of his, Esther." I expressed myself much obliged to him, but did not think it necessary to add that I readily dispensed with this attention.
It appears that the old combination of "booze" and women got the better of him, though there's something oddly fine about the fellow too. He was hitting an awful pace at Cambridge, and when he tried to pass off a fourth-rate chorus-girl as the Duchess of Turveydrop, the axe descended.
"That's right. Good-bye, father!" said Prince, shaking hands. "Good-bye, my son. Bless you!" Mr. Turveydrop said this in quite a pious manner, and it seemed to do his son good, who, in parting from him, was so pleased with him, so dutiful to him, and so proud of him that I almost felt as if it were an unkindness to the younger man not to be able to believe implicitly in the elder.
It's a secret as yet, even on his side, because old Mr. Turveydrop has a share in the connexion and it might break his heart or give him some other shock if he was told of it abruptly. Old Mr. Turveydrop is a very gentlemanly man indeed very gentlemanly." "Does his wife know of it?" asked Ada. "Old Mr. Turveydrop's wife, Miss Clare?" returned Miss Jellyby, opening her eyes.
And even when they are not suspected of positive immorality there is a too general idea that they are frivolously and trivially didactic the sort of thing that Mr. Turveydrop the elder might have written on Deportment if he had had brains enough.
One feels death enter, dignifying all things; and touched by that hand, foolish old Barkis grows great. In Uriah Heap and Mrs. Gummidge, Dickens draws types rather than characters. Pecksniff, Podsnap, Dolly Varden, Mr. Bumble, Mrs. Gamp, Mark Tapley, Turveydrop, Mrs. Jellyby these are not characters; they are human characteristics personified.
Many of the characters, who, though famous, are not essential to the development of the story, were drawn from real life. Turveydrop was suggested by George IV., and Inspector Bucket was a friend of the author in the Metropolitan Police Force. Harold Skimpole was identified with Leigh Hunt.
The great creature raised its head, and looked at us in apparent amazement at not being shot at. Then, probably considering that we did not know the customs of the river, or were out of ammunition, he slowly slipped away among the reeds with an air as if, like Mr. Turveydrop, he had done his duty in showing himself, and if we did not take advantage of it, it was no affair of his.
I do assure you, father, that our first wish and intention is to consider your comfort. Caroline and I do not forget our duty what is my duty is Caroline's, as we have often said together and with your approval and consent, father, we will devote ourselves to making your life agreeable." "Strike home," murmured Mr. Turveydrop. "Strike home!" But he seemed to listen, I thought, too.
Turveydrop might consider it undutiful and might receive too great a shock. For old Mr. Turveydrop's deportment is very beautiful, you know, Esther," said Caddy, "and his feelings are extremely sensitive." "Are they, my dear?" "Oh, extremely sensitive. Prince says so.
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