
“Lady Dedlock?”
She does not speak at first, nor even when she has slowly dropped into the easy chair by the table. They look at each other, like two pictures.
Continue reading “Mr.Tulkinghorn and Lady Dedlock”“Lady Dedlock?”
She does not speak at first, nor even when she has slowly dropped into the easy chair by the table. They look at each other, like two pictures.
Continue reading “Mr.Tulkinghorn and Lady Dedlock”Mr. Guppy sitting on the window-sill, nodding his head and balancing all these possibilities in his mind, continues thoughtfully to tap it, and clasp it, and measure it with his hand, until he hastily draws his hand away.
‘What, in the devil’s name,’ he says, ‘is this! Look at my fingers!’
Continue reading “Mr. Guppy and Tony Jobling”“He was a fat old gentleman with a false complexion, false teeth, false whiskers, and a wig. He had a fur collar, and he had a padded breast to his coat, which only wanted a star or a broad blue ribbon to be complete. He was pinched in, and swelled out, and got up, and strapped down, as much as he could possibly bear.
Continue reading “Mr. Turveydrop”It was a thing to look at. The three children close together, and two of them relying solely on the third, and the third so young and yet with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the childish figure.
“Charley, Charley!” said my guardian. “How old are you?”
“Over thirteen, sir,” replied the child.
“Oh! What a great age,” said my guardian. “What a great age, Charley!”
I cannot describe the tenderness with which he spoke to her, half playfully yet all the more compassionately and mournfully.