"Our friendship--my friendship--can't bear the strain of behaving to you like an ungrateful dastard and grudging you your happiness. For you _are_ the happiest dog in the world. If Mirah loves anybody better than her brother, _you are the man_."
Hans turned on his heel and threw himself into his chair, looking up at Deronda with an expression the reverse of tender. Something like a shock passed through Deronda, and, after an instant, he said,
"It is a good-natured fiction of yours, Hans."
"I am not in a good-natured mood. I assure you I found the fact disagreeable when it was thrust on me--all the more, or perhaps all the less, because I believed then that your heart was pledged to the duchess. But now, confound you! you turn out to be in love in the right place--a Jew--and everything eligible."

"Our friendship can't bear the strain of my behaving to you like an ungrateful dastard and grudging you your happiness. If Mirah loves anybody better than her brother, you are the man."
A shock passed through Deronda. After an instant, he said-
"It is a good-natured fiction of yours, Hans."
"I am not in a good-natured mood. I found the fact disagreeable when it was thrust on me: I believed then that your heart was pledged to the duchess. But now, confound you! you turn out to be in love in the right place - a Jew - and everything eligible."
