But the fat, ponderous man was so affected by the tragedy he had witnessed, that he could not as yet give any account of the scene of his master's death, but simply handed the note which he had in his hand to Lord Nidderdale.

But the ponderous man was so affected that he could not speak. He simply handed over the note in his hand.


It was from Marie, and had been written within half an hour of the time at which news had been brought to her of what had occurred.


The man will tell you what has happened.


Will you come to me, only for a few minutes?


He read it standing up in the hall, and then again asked the man as to the manner of his master's death.


And now the Marquis, gathering from a word or two that he heard and from his son's delay that something special had occurred, hobbled out into the hall.

The Marquis, hearing a word or two, hobbled out to him.


The old man dropped his stick, and fell back against the wall.


"This man says that he is dead, and here is a letter from Marie asking me to go there.

"This is a letter from Marie asking me to go there.


"It was--poison," said the butler solemnly.


"There has been a doctor already, and there isn't no doubt of that.

"A doctor has been, and there is no doubt.


He came home, perhaps a little fresh, and he had in brandy and soda and cigars;--and sat himself down all to himself.

He came home last night and had brandy and soda and cigars; and sat down by himself.


Then in the morning, when the young woman went in,--there he was,--poisoned!

Then in the morning, there he was - poisoned!


I see him lay on the ground, and I helped to lift him up, and there was that smell of prussic acid that I knew what he had been and done just the same as when the doctor came and told us."

I smelt prussic acid and knew what he had been and done, just like the doctor said."


Before the man could be allowed to go back, there was a consultation between the father and son as to a compliance with the request which Marie had made in her first misery.


The Marquis thought that his son had better not go to Bruton Street.

Then the Marquis thought that his son had better not go to Bruton Street.


She'll only be falling into your arms, and that's what you've got to avoid,--at any rate, till you know how things are."

She'll only be falling into your arms, and that's what you've got to avoid, till you know how things are."


But Nidderdale's better feelings would not allow him to submit to this advice.

But Nidderdale's better feelings would not allow him to follow this advice.


He had been engaged to marry the girl, and she in her abject misery had turned to him as the friend she knew best.

He had been engaged to marry the girl, and she in her misery had turned to him.


At any rate for the time the heartlessness of his usual life deserted him, and he felt willing to devote himself to the girl not for what he could get,--but because she had so nearly been so near to him.


"I couldn't refuse her," he said over and over again.


It is very disagreeable, but I cannot possibly refuse. It would be abominable."


Then going back to the hall, he sent a message by the butler to Marie, saying that he would be with her in less than half an hour.


"Don't you go and make a fool of yourself," his father said to him when he was alone.


"This is just one of those times when a man may ruin himself by being soft-hearted."


Nidderdale simply shook his head as he took his hat and gloves to go across to Bruton Street.

And he took up his hat and gloves to go across to Bruton Street.


Lady Carbury continued to ask frequent questions as to the prosecution of her son's suit, and Sir Felix began to think that he was persecuted.

Lady Carbury asked frequent questions about her son's suit for Marie's hand, until Sir Felix began to think that he was persecuted.


"I have spoken to her father," he said crossly.


He wanted to know what income I had got.


"Did he forbid you to come there any more?"


"Now, mother, it's no use your cross-examining me.


If you'll let me alone I'll do the best I can."


"Then, Felix, if I were you I'd run off with her.


It's done every day, and nobody thinks any harm of it when you marry the girl.


You could do it now because I know you've got money.


From all I can hear she's just the sort of girl that would go with you."


The son sat silent, listening to these maternal councils.


He did believe that Marie would go off with him, were he to propose the scheme to her.

He did believe that Marie would go off with him if he asked.


Her own father had almost alluded to such a proceeding,--had certainly hinted that it was feasible,--but at the same time had very clearly stated that in such case the ardent lover would have to content himself with the lady alone. In any such event as that there would be no fortune.

Her own father had hinted that such a thing was feasible, but at the same time had very clearly stated that in such case the lady would have no money.


But then, might not that only be a threat?

But then, might not that be only a threat?


Rich fathers generally do forgive their daughters, and a rich father with only one child would surely forgive her when she returned to him, as she would do in this instance, graced with a title.

Rich fathers generally forgive their daughters, and a rich father with only one child would surely forgive her when she returned graced with a title.


Sir Felix thought of all this as he sat there silent.

Sir Felix thought of all this as he sat silent.


His mother read his thoughts as she continued.


"Of course, Felix, there must be some risk."


"Fancy what it would be to be thrown over at last!"

"Imagine if I were to be thrown over at last!"


But when I say there would be some risk I mean that there would be very little.

But when I say some risk, I mean very little.


There would be nothing in it that ought to make him really angry.


He has nobody else to give his money to, and it would be much nicer to have his daughter, Lady Carbury, with him, than to be left all alone in the world."


When the money was once settled you need see as little of them as you pleased.

Once the money was settled you need see little of them.


Pray do not allow trifles to interfere with you.


If this should not succeed, what are you to do?


We shall all starve unless something be done.


If I were you, Felix, I would take her away at once."


"I shouldn't know where to take her," said Sir Felix, almost stunned into thoughtfulness by the magnitude of the proposition made to him.

"I shouldn't know where to take her," said Sir Felix, almost stunned by the magnitude of the proposition.


"All that about Scotland is done with now."


"Of course you would marry her at once."
"I suppose so,--unless it were better to stay as we were, till the money was settled."

"Maybe better not to marry, till the money was settled."


If you take her off in a spirited sort of way and then marry her, everybody will be with you.

If you take her off in a spirited way and then marry her, everybody will be with you.


The father and mother will be sure to come round, if--"
"The mother is nothing."
"He will come round if people speak up in your favour.

The father will be sure to come round, if people speak up in your favour.


I could get Mr. Alf and Mr. Broune to help.


Ten thousand a year is not to be had every year."


Sir Felix gave no assent to his mother's views.


He felt no desire to relieve her anxiety by an assurance of activity in the matter.


But the prospect was so grand that it had excited even him.

But the prospect was so grand that it excited even him.


He had money sufficient for carrying out the scheme, and if he delayed the matter now, it might well be that he would never again find himself so circumstanced.

He had enough money to carry out the scheme, and if he delayed now, he might never have the chance again.


He thought that he would ask somebody whither he ought to take her, and what he ought to do with her;--and that he would then make the proposition to herself.

He thought that he would ask somebody where he ought to take her.


Miles Grendall would be the man to tell him, because, with all his faults, Miles did understand things. But he could not ask Miles.

Miles Grendall would know, but he could not ask Miles.


He and Nidderdale were good friends; but Nidderdale wanted the girl for himself.


Grasslough would be sure to tell Nidderdale.


He thought that, perhaps, Herr Vossner would be the man to help him.

He thought that, perhaps, Herr Vossner would help him.


There would be no difficulty out of which Herr Vossner would not extricate "a fellow,"--if "the fellow" paid him.

Herr Vossner would help any fellow out of difficulty, for a payment.


On Thursday evening he went to Grosvenor Square, as desired by Marie,--but unfortunately found Melmotte in the drawing-room.

On Thursday evening he went to Grosvenor Square, as desired by Marie, but unfortunately found Melmotte in the drawing-room.


Lord Nidderdale was there also, and his lordship's old father, the Marquis of Auld Reekie, whom Felix, when he entered the room, did not know. He was a fierce-looking, gouty old man, with watery eyes, and very stiff grey hair,--almost white.

Lord Nidderdale was there also, with his father, the Marquis of Auld Reekie, a fierce-looking, gouty old man, with watery eyes, and very stiff grey hair.


He was standing up supporting himself on two sticks when Sir Felix entered the room.


There were also present Madame Melmotte, Miss Longestaffe, and Marie.


As Felix had entered the hall one huge footman had said that the ladies were not at home; then there had been for a moment a whispering behind a door,--in which he afterwards conceived that Madame Didon had taken a part;--and upon that a second tall footman had contradicted the first and had ushered him up to the drawing-room.


He felt considerably embarrassed, but shook hands with the ladies, bowed to Melmotte, who seemed to take no notice of him, and nodded to Lord Nidderdale.

Felix shook hands with the ladies, bowed to Melmotte, who seemed to take no notice of him, and nodded to Lord Nidderdale.


He had not had time to place himself, when the Marquis arranged things. "Suppose we go down-stairs," said the Marquis.

A moment later the old Marquis said, "Suppose we go downstairs."


The Marquis did not speak to his son, but poked at him with his stick, as though poking him out of the door. So instigated Nidderdale followed the financier, and the gouty old Marquis toddled after them.

The Marquis poked at his son with his stick until Nidderdale followed Melmotte; and the gouty old Marquis toddled after them.


Madame Melmotte was beside herself with trepidation.

Madame Melmotte was beside herself with anxiety.


"You should not have been made to come up at all," she said.

"You should not have been shown in," she said.


"I am very sorry," said Sir Felix, looking quite aghast.

"I am very sorry," said Sir Felix, quite aghast.


"I think that I had at any rate better retire," said Miss Longestaffe, raising herself to her full height and stalking out of the room.

"I think that I had better retire," said Miss Longestaffe, stalking out of the room.


"Qu'elle est mchante," said Madame Melmotte. "Oh, she is so bad.

"Oh, she is so bad," said Madame Melmotte.


"No," said Marie, running to him, and taking hold of his arm.


"He will kill you," said Madame Melmotte.


"Then he shall," said Marie, clinging to her lover.


If he were to cut me into bits I wouldn't do it.


"Certainly," said Sir Felix, slipping his arm round her waist.


"Mamma," said Marie, "I will never have any other man but him;--never, never, never.

"Mamma," said Marie, "I will never have any other man but him; never, never, never.


Sir Felix was a little troubled in his mind as to what he should say, or what he should do.

Sir Felix was a little troubled as to what he should say or do.


It is a beastliness," said Madame Melmotte.


I will walk down among them into papa's room, and say that I will never marry that man, and that this is my lover.

I will walk down into papa's room, and say that I will never marry that man, and that this is my lover.


Sir Felix did not quite like the proposition.


There had been a savage ferocity in that Marquis's eye, and there was habitually a heavy sternness about Melmotte, which together made him resist the invitation.

There had been a savage ferocity in that Marquis's eye, and a sternness about Melmotte, which made him cautious.


"I don't think I have a right to do that," he said, "because it is Mr. Melmotte's own house."


"I told papa to-day that I wouldn't marry Lord Nidderdale."

"I told papa today that I wouldn't marry Lord Nidderdale."


He manages people till he thinks that everybody must do exactly what he tells them.

He thinks that everybody must do exactly what he tells them.


Felix, if you will be true to me, nothing shall separate us.


I will not be ashamed to tell everybody that I love you."


Madame Melmotte had now thrown herself into a chair and was sighing.

Madame Melmotte had thrown herself into a chair, sighing.


Sir Felix stood on the rug with his arm round Marie's waist, listening to her protestations, but saying little in answer to them,--when, suddenly, a heavy step was heard ascending the stairs.

Sir Felix stood with his arm round Marie's waist, listening - when a heavy step was heard ascending the stairs.


"C'est lui," screamed Madame Melmotte, bustling up from her seat and hurrying out of the room by a side door.

"C'est lui," screamed Madame Melmotte, bustling up and hurrying out of the room by a side door.


The two lovers were alone for one moment, during which Marie lifted up her face, and Sir Felix kissed her lips.


"Now be brave," she said, escaping from his arm, "and I'll be brave."


Mr. Melmotte looked round the room as he entered.


"Mamma has gone away, and Miss Longestaffe went before mamma."


"Sir Felix, it is well that I should tell you that my daughter is engaged to marry Lord Nidderdale."

"Sir Felix, I must tell you that my daughter is engaged to marry Lord Nidderdale."


"Sir Felix, I am not engaged--to--marry Lord Nidderdale," said Marie.

"Sir Felix, I am not engaged to marry Lord Nidderdale," said Marie.


I won't do it. If you chop me to pieces, I won't do it."

I won't do it, if you chop me to pieces."


"She will marry Lord Nidderdale," continued Mr. Melmotte, addressing himself to Sir Felix.

"She will marry Lord Nidderdale," continued Mr. Melmotte, addressing Sir Felix.


"As that is arranged, you will perhaps think it better to leave us.


I shall be happy to renew my acquaintance with you as soon as the fact is recognised;--or happy to see you in the city at any time."

I shall be happy to see you in the city at any time."


I hate Lord Nidderdale; and as for that dreadful old man, I could not bear to look at him.


Sir Felix is as good a gentleman as he is.


If you loved me, papa, you would not want to make me unhappy all my life."


Her father walked up to her rapidly with his hand raised, and she clung only the closer to her lover's arm.

Her father walked up to her rapidly with his hand raised, and she clung closer to her lover's arm.


At this moment Sir Felix did not know what he might best do, but he thoroughly wished himself out in the square.

Sir Felix wished himself out in the square.


"Of course I will go to bed, if you tell me, papa."


How dare you take hold of him in that way before me!

How dare you take hold of him in that disgraceful way!"


"It is not more disgraceful to love him than that other man.


He took her by the arm and dragged her to the door, and then thrust her out.


"I am very sorry, Mr. Melmotte," said Sir Felix, "to have had a hand in causing this disturbance."


"Go away, and don't come back any more;--that's all.

"Go away, and don't come back any more; that's all.


I'm not the man to give my daughter a single shilling if she marries against my consent.

I won't give my daughter a single shilling if she marries against my consent.


By the God that hears me, Sir Felix, she shall not have one shilling.

By God, Sir Felix, she shall not have one shilling.


But look you,--if you'll give this up, I shall be proud to co-operate with you in anything you may wish to have done in the city."

But look you - if you'll give this up, I shall be proud to co-operate with you in anything you may wish to have done in the city."


After this Sir Felix left the room, went down the stairs, had the door opened for him, and was ushered into the square.

Sir Felix went downstairs and was ushered out into the square.


But as he went through the hall a woman managed to shove a note into his hand,--which he read as soon as he found himself under a gas lamp.

But as he went through the hall a woman managed to shove a note into his hand.


It was dated that morning, and had therefore no reference to the fray which had just taken place. It ran as follows:--

It was dated that morning, and ran as follows:


There is something I cannot tell you then, but you ought to know it.


When we were in France papa thought it wise to settle a lot of money on me.


I don't know how much, but I suppose it was enough to live on if other things went wrong.


He never talked to me about it, but I know it was done. And it hasn't been undone, and can't be without my leave.

He never talked to me about it, but I know it was done, and it can't be undone without my leave.


He is very angry about you this morning, for I told him I would never give you up.


He says he won't give me anything if I marry without his leave.


I tell you, because I think I ought to tell you everything.


Sir Felix as he read this could not but think that he had become engaged to a very enterprising young lady.

Sir Felix felt that he had become engaged to a very enterprising young lady.


It was evident that she did not care to what extent she braved her father on behalf of her lover, and now she coolly proposed to rob him.

She braved her father on behalf of her lover, and now she coolly proposed to rob him.


But Sir Felix saw no reason why he should not take advantage of the money made over to the girl's name, if he could lay his hands on it.

But Sir Felix saw no reason why he should not take advantage of the money made over to the girl's name.


He did not know much of such transactions, but he knew more than Marie Melmotte, and could understand that a man in Melmotte's position should want to secure a portion of his fortune against accidents, by settling it on his daughter.

He could understand that a man in Melmotte's position should want to secure some of his fortune against accidents, by settling it on his daughter.


Whether having so settled it, he could again resume it without the daughter's assent, Sir Felix did not know.

Whether having so settled it, he could take it back without the daughter's assent, Sir Felix did not know.


Marie, who had no doubt been regarded as an absolutely passive instrument when the thing was done, was now quite alive to the benefit which she might possibly derive from it.

Marie had no doubt been regarded as a passive instrument when the thing was done, but she was now aware of the benefit which she might derive from it.


Her proposition, put into plain English, amounted to this: "Take me and marry me without my father's consent,--and then you and I together can rob my father of the money which, for his own purposes, he has settled upon me."

Her proposition amounted to this: "Marry me without my father's consent, and together we can rob my father of the money which, for his own purposes, he has settled upon me."


He had looked upon the lady of his choice as a poor weak thing, without any special character of her own, who was made worthy of consideration only by the fact that she was a rich man's daughter; but now she began to loom before his eyes as something bigger than that.

He had looked upon her as a poor weak thing; but now she began to loom before his eyes as something bigger than that.


She had had a will of her own when the mother had none.


She had not been afraid of her brutal father when he, Sir Felix, had trembled before him.

She had not been afraid of her brutal father when he, Sir Felix, had trembled.


She had offered to be beaten, and killed, and chopped to pieces on behalf of her lover.


There could be no doubt about her running away if she were asked.

There could be no doubt she would run away if she were asked.


It seemed to him that within the last month he had gained a great deal of experience, and that things which heretofore had been troublesome to him, or difficult, or perhaps impossible, were now coming easily within his reach.

It seemed to him that things which had been troublesome or difficult were now coming easily within his reach.


He had won two or three thousand pounds at cards, whereas invariable loss had been the result of the small play in which he had before indulged.

He had won two or three thousand pounds at cards.


He had been set to marry this heiress, having at first no great liking for the attempt, because of its difficulties and the small amount of hope which it offered him. The girl was already willing and anxious to jump into his arms.

He had been set to marry this heiress, and the girl was willing and anxious to jump into his arms.


Then he had detected a man cheating at cards,--an extent of iniquity that was awful to him before he had seen it,--and was already beginning to think that there was not very much in that.


If there was not much in it, if such a man as Miles Grendall could cheat at cards and be brought to no punishment, why should not he try it? It was a rapid way of winning, no doubt. He remembered that on one or two occasions he had asked his adversary to cut the cards a second time at whist, because he had observed that there was no honour at the bottom. No feeling of honesty had interfered with him. The little trick had hardly been premeditated, but when successful without detection had not troubled his conscience. Now it seemed to him that much more than that might be done without detection.

If such a man as Miles Grendall could cheat at cards and be brought to no punishment, it seemed to him that much more than that might be done without detection.


But nothing had opened his eyes to the ways of the world so widely as the sweet little lover-like proposition made by Miss Melmotte for robbing her father.


It certainly recommended the girl to him.


She had been able at an early age, amidst the circumstances of a very secluded life, to throw off from her altogether those scruples of honesty, those bugbears of the world, which are apt to prevent great enterprises in the minds of men.

She had been able to throw off altogether those scruples of honesty which are apt to prevent great enterprises.


This sum of money of which Marie wrote so easily was probably large.

This sum of money of which Marie wrote was probably large.


It would not have been worth the while of such a man as Mr. Melmotte to make a trifling provision of this nature. It could hardly be less than 50,000,--might probably be very much more.

It would not have been worth her father's while to make a provision of less than 50,000 - probably very much more.


But this was certain to him,--that if he and Marie were to claim this money as man and wife, there could then be no hope of further liberality.

But this was certain: if he and Marie were to marry, there could then be no hope of more money beyond that.


It was not probable that such a man as Mr. Melmotte would forgive even an only child such an offence as that.


Even if it were obtained, 50,000 would not be very much.

In that case, 50,000 would not be very much.


And Melmotte might probably have means, even if the robbery were duly perpetrated, of making the possession of the money very uncomfortable.

And Melmotte would probably have means of making the possession of the money very uncomfortable.


These were deep waters into which Sir Felix was preparing to plunge; and he did not feel himself to be altogether comfortable, although he liked the deep waters.

These were deep waters into which Sir Felix was preparing to plunge; and he was uneasy.


Lady Carbury's desire for a union between Roger and her daughter was greatly increased by her solicitude in respect to her son.

Lady Carbury's desire for a union between Roger and her daughter was greatly increased by her anxiety about her son.


Since Roger's offer had first been made, Felix had gone on from bad to worse, till his condition had become one of hopeless embarrassment.


If her daughter could but be settled in the world, Lady Carbury said to herself, she could then devote herself to the interests of her son.

If her daughter could only be settled in the world, Lady Carbury thought, she could devote herself to her son's interests.


She had no very clear idea of what that devotion would be.


But she did know that she had paid so much money for him, and would have so much more extracted from her, that it might well come to pass that she would be unable to keep a home for her daughter.

But she knew that she had paid so much money for him, and would have to pay so much more, that she might be unable to keep a home for her daughter.


In all these troubles she constantly appealed to Roger Carbury for advice,--which, however, she never followed.

In these troubles she constantly appealed to Roger Carbury for advice - which, however, she never followed.


He recommended her to give up her house in town, to find a home for her daughter elsewhere, and also for Felix if he would consent to follow her.

He recommended her to give up her house in town, and find a home for her daughter and Felix elsewhere.


Should he not so consent, then let the young man bear the brunt of his own misdoings.

If Felix would not follow her, then let him bear the brunt of his own misdoings.


Doubtless, when he could no longer get bread in London he would find her out.

When he had no more money he would seek her out.


Roger was always severe when he spoke of the baronet,--or seemed to Lady Carbury to be severe.

Lady Carbury thought Roger was always severe when he spoke of the baronet.


But, in truth, she did not ask for advice in order that she might follow it.


She had plans in her head with which she knew that Roger would not sympathise.

She had plans with which she knew that Roger would not sympathise.


She still thought that Sir Felix might bloom and burst out into grandeur, wealth, and fashion, as the husband of a great heiress, and in spite of her son's vices, was proud of him in that anticipation.

She still thought that Sir Felix might bloom and burst out into grandeur, wealth, and fashion, as the husband of a great heiress.


When he succeeded in obtaining from her money, as in the case of that 20,--when, with brazen-faced indifference to her remonstrances, he started off to his club at two in the morning, when with impudent drollery he almost boasted of the hopelessness of his debts, a sickness of heart would come upon her, and she would weep hysterically, and lie the whole night without sleeping.

When he got money from her - when, with brazen-faced indifference to her remonstrances, he started off to his club at two in the morning - when he almost boasted of the hopelessness of his debts, a sickness of heart would come upon her, and she would weep hysterically, and lie the whole night without sleeping.


But could he marry Miss Melmotte, and thus conquer all his troubles by means of his own personal beauty,--then she would be proud of all that had passed.

But if he could marry Miss Melmotte, then she would be proud of him.


With such a condition of mind Roger Carbury could have no sympathy.

With such a view Roger Carbury could have no sympathy.


To him it seemed that a gentleman was disgraced who owed money to a tradesman which he could not pay.

He thought that a gentleman was disgraced by owing money to a tradesman.


And Lady Carbury's heart was high with other hopes,--in spite of her hysterics and her fears. The "Criminal Queens" might be a great literary success.

And Lady Carbury's heart was high with other hopes: the "Criminal Queens" might be a great literary success.


She almost thought that it would be a success.


Messrs. Leadham and Loiter, the publishers, were civil to her.


Mr. Booker had said that he would see what could be done.


She had gathered from Mr. Alf's caustic and cautious words that the book would be noticed in the "Evening Pulpit."

She had gathered from Mr. Alf's cautious words that the book would be reviewed in the Evening Pulpit.


No;--she would not take dear Roger's advice as to leaving London.


But she would continue to ask Roger's advice.


And, if possible, she would arrange the marriage.


What country retirement could be so suitable for a Lady Carbury when she wished to retire for awhile,--as Carbury Manor, the seat of her own daughter?


And then her mind would fly away into regions of bliss.

Her mind would fly away into regions of bliss.


If only by the end of this season Henrietta could be engaged to her cousin, Felix be the husband of the richest bride in Europe, and she be the acknowledged author of the cleverest book of the year, what a Paradise of triumph might still be open to her after all her troubles!

If only Henrietta could be engaged to her cousin, Felix marry the richest bride in Europe, and she be the author of the cleverest book of the year, what a Paradise of triumph might be open to her after all her troubles!


Then the sanguine nature of the woman would bear her up almost to exultation, and for an hour she would be happy, in spite of everything.

Thinking this, for an hour she would be happy, in spite of everything.


A few days after the ball Roger Carbury was up in town, and was closeted with her in her back drawing-room.

A few days after the ball Roger Carbury was in town, and was with her in the back drawing-room.


The declared cause of his coming was the condition of the baronet's affairs and the indispensable necessity,--so Roger thought,--of taking some steps by which at any rate the young man's present expenses might be brought to an end.

He had come because of the condition of the baronet's affairs and the necessity - so Roger thought - of taking steps to curtail the young man's expenses.


It was horrible to him that a man who had not a shilling in the world or any prospect of a shilling, who had nothing and never thought of earning anything, should have hunters!

It was horrible to him that a penniless man should have horses to hunt with!


He was very much in earnest about it, and quite prepared to speak his mind to the young man himself,--if he could get hold of him.

He was quite prepared to speak his mind to Felix himself, if he could get hold of him.


"Where is he now, Lady Carbury;--at this moment?"


Being "out with the Baron" meant that the young man was hunting with the stag hounds some forty miles away from London.

This meant that he was hunting some forty miles from London.


"I think you should refuse to have anything to do with him while he continues in such courses."


Is he to be allowed to ruin you, and Hetta?

Is he to be allowed to ruin you and Hetta?


And then it is so thoroughly dishonest,--so ungentlemanlike!

And it is so thoroughly dishonest - so ungentlemanlike!


I don't understand how it goes on from day to day.


I suppose you don't supply him with ready money."

I suppose you don't supply him with money."


"I can understand that you should provide him with bed and food, but not that you should pander to his vices by giving him money."


This was very plain speaking, and Lady Carbury winced under it.


"The kind of life that he is leading requires a large income of itself.


I understand the thing, and know that with all I have in the world I could not do it myself."


"I am older of course,--very much older.


But he is not so young that he should not begin to comprehend.


Has he any money beyond what you give him?"


Then Lady Carbury revealed certain suspicions which she had begun to entertain during the last day or two.

Then Lady Carbury revealed her suspicions.


"That is the way to lose money,--not to get it," said Roger.

"That is the way to lose money, not to get it," said Roger.


I would sooner that he were a fool than a knave."

I would rather he were a fool than a knave."


I don't even know that he does play; but I have reason to think that during the last week he has had money at his command.

"I don't even know that he does play; but I think that during the last week he has had money.


He comes home at all manner of hours and sleeps late.

He comes home at all hours and sleeps late.


Yesterday I went into his room about ten and did not wake him. There were notes and gold lying on his table;--ever so much."

Yesterday I went into his room and there were notes and gold lying on his table - ever so much."


"When you tell me that you are absolutely in want of money to pay your own bills, and that he has not hesitated to take yours from you!

"When you tell me that you need money to pay your bills, and that he has taken yours!


Why does he not repay you what he has borrowed?"


"Ah, indeed;--why not? He ought to if he has it.


And there were papers there;--I. O. U.'s, signed by other men."

And there were papers there; I.O.U.s, signed by other men.


It is not that I am curious, but one does feel about one's own son.


And I think he has bought another horse."


A groom came here and said something about it to the servants."


"If you could only induce him to stop the gambling!

"If you could only induce him to stop gambling!


Of course it is very bad whether he wins or loses,--though I am sure that Felix would do nothing unfair.


If he has won money, it would be a great comfort if he would let me have some of it,--for, to tell the truth, I hardly know how to turn.

If he has won money, it would be a great comfort if he would let me have some of it - for, to tell the truth, I hardly know where to turn."


I am sure nobody can say that I spend it on myself."


There could be no use in attempting to keep up the present kind of life in Welbeck Street.


Welbeck Street might be very well without a penniless spendthrift such as Sir Felix, but must be ruinous under the present conditions.


If Lady Carbury felt, as no doubt she did feel, bound to afford a home to her ruined son in spite of all his wickedness and folly, that home should be found far away from London.

If Lady Carbury felt bound to offer a home to her ruined son in spite of all his folly, that home should be far away from London.


If he chose to remain in London, let him do so on his own resources.


The young man should make up his mind to do something for himself.


A career might possibly be opened for him in India.


"If he be a man he would sooner break stones than live on you," said Roger.

"If he is a man he would sooner break stones than live on you," said Roger.


Yes, he would see his cousin to-morrow and speak to him;--that is if he could possibly find him.

He would see his cousin tomorrow and speak to him.


"Young men who gamble all night, and hunt all day are not easily found."


But he would come at twelve as Felix generally breakfasted at that hour.

He would come at twelve, when Felix generally breakfasted.


Then he gave an assurance to Lady Carbury which to her was not the least comfortable part of the interview. In the event of her son not giving her the money which she at once required he, Roger, would lend her a hundred pounds till her half year's income should be due.

Then he assured Lady Carbury that if her son did not give her the money she needed, he, Roger, would lend her a hundred pounds.


After that his voice changed altogether, as he asked a question on another subject, "Can I see Henrietta to-morrow?"

After that his voice changed, as he asked, "Can I see Henrietta tomorrow?"


"I will wait till to-morrow,--when I call to see Felix.


"I should like her to know that I am coming.


Paul Montague was in town the other day.


Felix got a card for him;--and we were there.


I think he had some business about his partners at Liverpool.


There is another case of a young man without anything to do.

He is another young man without anything to do.


Not that Paul is at all like Sir Felix."


This he was induced to say by the spirit of honesty which was always strong within him.


"Don't be too hard upon poor Felix," said Lady Carbury.


Roger, as he took his leave, thought that it would be impossible to be too hard upon Sir Felix Carbury.

Roger, as he took his leave, thought that it would be impossible to be too hard upon Sir Felix.


The next morning Lady Carbury was in her son's bedroom before he was up, and with incredible weakness told him that his cousin Roger was coming to lecture him.


"If you speak to me in that way, Felix, I must leave the room."


"But what is the use of his coming to me?


I know what he has got to say just as if it were said.


It's all very well preaching sermons to good people, but nothing ever was got by preaching to people who ain't good."

Nothing was ever got by preaching to people who ain't good."


"I shall do very well, mother, if that fellow will leave me alone.


I can play my hand better than he can play it for me.


She had intended to ask him for some of the money which she believed he still possessed, but her courage failed her.

She had intended to ask him for some money, but her courage failed her.


If she asked for his money, and took it, she would in some fashion recognise and tacitly approve his gambling.

To ask for his money would be to recognise and even approve his gambling.


It was not yet eleven, and it was early for him to leave his bed; but he had resolved that he would get out of the house before that horrible bore should be upon him with his sermon.

It was not yet eleven; but Felix resolved to get out of the house before that horrible bore should come with his sermon.


He was actually eating his breakfast at half-past eleven, and had already contrived in his mind how he would turn the wrong way as soon as he got into the street,--towards Marylebone Road, by which route Roger would certainly not come.

He ate his breakfast at half-past eleven, planning how he would go out towards Marylebone Road, by which route Roger would not come.


He left the house at ten minutes before twelve, cunningly turned away, dodging round by the first corner,--and just as he had turned it encountered his cousin.

He left the house at ten to twelve, cunningly dodging round the first corner - and as he turned it, met his cousin.


Roger, anxious in regard to his errand, with time at his command, had come before the hour appointed and had strolled about, thinking not of Felix but of Felix's sister.

Roger had come early and strolled about, thinking of Henrietta.


The baronet felt that he had been caught,--caught unfairly, but by no means abandoned all hope of escape.

Felix felt that he had been caught unfairly.


"I was going to your mother's house on purpose to see you," said Roger.

"I was going to your mother's house to see you," said Roger.


I have an engagement out here with a fellow which I must keep.


I could meet you at any other time, you know."


"You can come back for ten minutes," said Roger, taking him by the arm.


"Well;--not conveniently at this moment."


I am here at your mother's request, and can't afford to remain in town day after day looking for you.


His firmness was too much for Felix, who lacked the courage to shake his cousin off violently, and to go his way.

His firmness was too much for Felix, who lacked the courage to shake his cousin off.


But as he returned he fortified himself with the remembrance of all the money in his pocket,--for he still had his winnings,--remembered too certain sweet words which had passed between him and Marie Melmotte since the ball, and resolved that he would not be "sat upon" by Roger Carbury.

But he fortified himself with the remembrance of the money in his pocket. He remembered too certain sweet words which had passed between him and Marie Melmotte since the ball, and resolved that he would not be "sat upon" by Roger Carbury.


The time was coming,--he might almost say that the time had come,--in which he might defy Roger Carbury.

The time was coming when he might defy Roger Carbury.


Nevertheless, he dreaded the words which were now to be spoken to him with a craven fear.

Nevertheless, he dreaded the coming words.


"Your mother tells me," said Roger, "that you still keep hunters."


I have one that I didn't part with when the others went."

"I have one that I kept when the others went."


"Well;--if you want to be exact, I have a hack as well as the horse I ride."

"Well - to be exact, I have a hack as well."


No; I haven't. At least there is one staying at some stables which has been sent for me to look at."


"At any rate I shall not ask you to pay for them."


But you have no scruple in asking your mother, though you should force her to come to me or to other friends for assistance.

But you have no scruple in asking your mother.


You have squandered every shilling of your own, and now you are ruining her."


"This is all very well, Roger; but I don't know that you have any right to ask me these questions.


If I keep one or two I can pay for them.


Of course I owe a lot of money, but other people owe me money too.


I'm all right, and you needn't frighten yourself."


"Then why do you beg her last shilling from your mother, and when you have money not pay it back to her?"

"Then why do you beg her last shilling from your mother, and not pay it back to her?"


"She can have the twenty pounds, if you mean that."


"I mean that, and a good deal more than that.


"I don't know that I am bound to answer your questions, and I won't do it.


If you have nothing else to say, I'll go about my own business."

If you have nothing else to say, I'll go."


"I have something else to say, and I mean to say it."


Felix had walked towards the door, but Roger was before him, and now leaned his back against it.

Felix had walked towards the door, but Roger was before him, and leaned his back against it.


"I am not going to be kept here against my will," said Felix.


"You have to listen to me, so you may as well sit still.


Do you wish to be looked upon as a blackguard by all the world?"


You have spent every shilling of your own,--and because your mother is affectionate and weak, you are now spending all that she has, and are bringing her and your sister to beggary."

You have spent every shilling of your own - and because your mother is affectionate and weak, you are now bringing her and your sister to beggary."


"I don't ask them to pay anything for me."


Take it and give it her," said Felix, counting the notes out of the pocket-book.

Give it her," said Felix, counting the notes out.


"When I asked her for it, I did not think she would make such a row about such a trifle."

"When I asked for it, I did not think she would make such a row about such a trifle.


Roger took up the notes and thrust them into his pocket.


Do you purpose that your mother should keep you and clothe you for the rest of your life?"

Do you intend that your mother should keep you for the rest of your life?"


"I hope to be able to keep her before long, and to do it much better than it has ever been done before.

"I hope to be able to keep her before long.


The truth is, Roger, you know nothing about it.


If you'll leave me to myself, you'll find that I shall do very well."

If you'll leave me to myself, I shall do very well."


"I don't know any young man who ever did worse, or one who had less moral conception of what is right and wrong."

"I don't know any young man who ever did worse, or one who had less idea of what is right and wrong."


Roger felt that he hadn't half said what he had to say, but he hardly knew how to get it said.

Roger felt that he hadn't said half of what he had to say.


And of what use could it be to talk to a young man who was altogether callous and without feeling?

But of what use could it be to talk to a young man who was altogether callous?


The remedy for the evil ought to be found in the mother's conduct rather than the son's. She, were she not foolishly weak, would make up her mind to divide herself utterly from her son, at any rate for a while, and to leave him to suffer utter penury.

If his mother were not foolishly weak, she would divide herself from her son for a while, and leave him to suffer penury.


That would bring him round. And then when the agony of want had tamed him, he would be content to take bread and meat from her hand and would be humble.

That would tame him and make him humble.


At present he had money in his pocket, and would eat and drink of the best, and be free from inconvenience for the moment. While this prosperity remained it would be impossible to touch him.

While he had money in his pocket it would be impossible to touch him.


"You will ruin your sister, and break your mother's heart," said Roger, firing a last harmless shot after the young reprobate.

"You will ruin your sister, and break your mother's heart," said Roger, firing a last harmless shot.


When Lady Carbury came into the room, which she did as soon as the front door was closed behind her son, she seemed to think that a great success had been achieved because the 20 had been recovered.

When Lady Carbury came into the room after her son had left, she seemed to think that a great success had been achieved because the 20 had been recovered.


"I knew he would give it me back, if he had it," she said.

"I knew he would give it back," she said.


"Why did he not bring it to you of his own accord?"


"I suppose he did not like to talk about it.


Has he said that he got it by--playing?"

Has he said that he got it by - playing?"


"No,--he did not speak a word of truth while he was here. You may take it for granted that he did get it by gambling. How else should he have it? And you may take it for granted also that he will lose all that he has got.

"No; but you may take it for granted that he did get it by gambling - and also that he will lose all he has got.


He talked in the wildest way,--saying that he would soon have a home for you and Hetta."

He talked in the wildest way, saying that he would soon have a home for you."


And it is quite on the cards that it should be so.


"I have heard of the great French swindler who has come over here, and who is buying his way into society."

"I have heard of the great French swindler who is buying his way into society."


Who knows anything about him,--except that he left Paris with the reputation of a specially prosperous rogue?


"Some people think that Felix will marry his only child.


What young man is there nearly so handsome?


They say she'll have half a million of money."


But we shall hardly agree with each other about that.


Marie Melmotte was hardly satisfied with the note which she received from Didon early on the Monday morning.

Marie Melmotte was hardly satisfied with the note which she received from Didon on Monday morning.


With a volubility of French eloquence, Didon declared that she would be turned out of the house if either Monsieur or Madame were to know what she was doing.

With French volubility, Didon declared that she would be turned out of the house if Monsieur knew what she was doing.


Marie told her that Madame would certainly never dismiss her.


"Well, perhaps not Madame," said Didon, who knew too much about Madame to be dismissed; "but Monsieur!"


Marie declared that by no possibility could Monsieur know anything about it.

Marie retorted that Monsieur could not possibly know anything about it.


In that house nobody ever told anything to Monsieur.


He was regarded as the general enemy, against whom the whole household was always making ambushes, always firing guns from behind rocks and trees.

He was regarded as the general enemy, against whom the whole household was always making ambushes.


It is not a pleasant condition for a master of a house; but in this house the master at any rate knew how he was placed. It never occurred to him to trust any one.

It is not a pleasant condition for a master of a house; but the master knew how he was placed, and never trusted anyone.


But who would run away with her without money?


And there could be no money except from him.


He was not the man to forgive a girl, and then bestow his wealth on the Lothario who had injured him.


His daughter was valuable to him because she might make him the father-in-law of a Marquis or an Earl; but the higher that he rose without such assistance, the less need had he of his daughter's aid.

His daughter was valuable to him because she might make him the father-in-law of a Marquis or an Earl; but the higher he rose, the less need had he of his daughter's aid.


Lord Alfred was certainly very useful to him.


Lord Alfred had whispered into his ear that by certain conduct and by certain uses of his money, he himself might be made a baronet.

Lord Alfred had suggested that by certain uses of his money, Melmotte might be made a baronet.


"But if they should say that I'm not an Englishman?"


Lord Alfred had explained that it was not necessary that he should have been born in England, or even that he should have an English name.

Lord Alfred had explained that it was not necessary that he should have been born in England.


Let him first get into Parliament, and then spend a little money on the proper side,--by which Lord Alfred meant the Conservative side,--and be munificent in his entertainments, and the baronetcy would be almost a matter of course.

Let him first get into Parliament, and then spend a little money on the Conservative side, and entertain lavishly, and the baronetcy would follow.


Indeed, there was no knowing what honours might not be achieved in the present days by money scattered with a liberal hand.


In these conversations, Melmotte would speak of his money and power of making money as though they were unlimited,--and Lord Alfred believed him.


Marie was dissatisfied with her letter,--not because it described her father as "cutting up very rough." To her who had known her father all her life that was a matter of course. But there was no word of love in the note.

Marie was dissatisfied with her letter, because there was no word of love in it.


An impassioned correspondence carried on through Didon would be delightful to her.

An impassioned correspondence would be delightful to her.


She was quite capable of loving, and she did love the young man. She had, no doubt, consented to accept the addresses of others whom she did not love,--but this she had done at the moment almost of her first introduction to the marvellous world in which she was now living.

She loved the young man, and was living in a new, marvellous world.


As days went on she ceased to be a child, and her courage grew within her.

As days went on she ceased to be a child, and her courage grew.


She became conscious of an identity of her own, which feeling was produced in great part by the contempt which accompanied her increasing familiarity with grand people and grand names and grand things.

She became conscious of an identity of her own, partly because her increasing familiarity with grand people meant she was no longer in awe of them.


She was no longer afraid of saying No to the Nidderdales on account of any awe of them personally.

She was no longer afraid of saying No to the Nidderdales.


It might be that she should acknowledge herself to be obliged to obey her father, though she was drifting away even from the sense of that obligation.

She was drifting away even from the sense of obligation to her father.


Had her mind been as it was now when Lord Nidderdale first came to her, she might indeed have loved him, who, as a man, was infinitely better than Sir Felix, and who, had he thought it to be necessary, would have put some grace into his love-making.

Had her mind been as independent when Lord Nidderdale first came to her, she might indeed have loved him; for, as a man, he was infinitely better than Sir Felix.


But at that time she had been childish. He, finding her to be a child, had hardly spoken to her.

But at that time she had been childish, and he, finding her to be a child, had hardly spoken to her.


And she, child though she was, had resented such usage.


But a few months in London had changed all this, and now she was a child no longer.


She was in love with Sir Felix, and had told her love.


Whatever difficulties there might be, she intended to be true.


Sir Felix was her idol, and she abandoned herself to its worship.


But she desired that her idol should be of flesh and blood, and not of wood.

But she desired that her idol should be of flesh and blood, not wood.


She was at first half-inclined to be angry; but as she sat with his letter in her hand, she remembered that he did not know Didon as well as she did, and that he might be afraid to trust his raptures to such custody.

She was at first half-inclined to be angry; but as she sat with his letter in her hand, she remembered that he did not know Didon well, and that he might be afraid to trust his raptures to the maid's custody.


She could write to him at his club, and having no such fear, she could write warmly.


I have just got your note;--such a scrap!

I have just got your note - such a scrap!


Of course papa would talk about money because he never thinks of anything else.


I don't know anything about money, and I don't care in the least how much you have got.


Papa has got plenty, and I think he would give us some if we were once married.

Papa has got plenty, and I think he would give us some if we were married.


I have told mamma, but mamma is always afraid of everything.

I have told mamma, but she is always afraid of everything.


Papa is very cross to her sometimes;--more so than to me.

Papa is very cross to her sometimes; more so than to me.


I will try to tell him, though I can't always get at him.


I very often hardly see him all day long.


But I don't mean to be afraid of him, and will tell him that on my word and honour I will never marry any one except you.

But I don't mean to be afraid, and I will tell him that on my word and honour I will never marry anyone except you.


I don't think he will beat me, but if he does, I'll bear it,--for your sake.

I don't think he will beat me, but if he does, I'll bear it, for your sake.


You can write to me quite safely through Didon.


I think if you would call some day and give her something, it would help, as she is very fond of money.

I think if you would give her something, it would help, as she is very fond of money.


I love you better than anything in the world, and I will never,--never give you up.

I love you better than anything in the world, and I will never, never give you up.


I suppose you can come and call,--unless papa tells the man in the hall not to let you in.

I suppose you can come and call, unless papa tells the servants not to let you in.


I'll find that out from Didon, but I can't do it before sending this letter.


Papa dined out yesterday somewhere with that Lord Alfred, so I haven't seen him since you were here.


I never see him before he goes into the city in the morning.


Now I am going down-stairs to breakfast with mamma and that Miss Longestaffe.

Now I am going downstairs to breakfast with mamma and that Miss Longestaffe.


And I am your own, own affectionate ladylove,


Sir Felix when he read this letter at his club in the afternoon of the Monday, turned up his nose and shook his head.

Sir Felix when he read this turned up his nose and shook his head.


He thought if there were much of that kind of thing to be done, he could not go on with it, even though the marriage were certain, and the money secure.

He thought if there were much more of that kind of thing, he could not go on with it, despite the money.


he said to himself as he crumpled the letter up.


Marie having intrusted her letter to Didon, together with a little present of gloves and shoes, went down to breakfast.

Marie, having entrusted her letter to Didon, together with a little present of gloves and shoes, went down to breakfast.


Her mother was the first there, and Miss Longestaffe soon followed. That lady, when she found that she was not expected to breakfast with the master of the house, abandoned the idea of having her meal sent to her in her own room. Madame Melmotte she must endure.

Her mother was there, and Miss Longestaffe soon followed, having resolved to endure Madame Melmotte.


With Madame Melmotte she had to go out in the carriage every day. Indeed she could only go to those parties to which Madame Melmotte accompanied her.

She had to go out in the carriage with her every day, and could only go to parties if Madame Melmotte accompanied her.


If the London season was to be of any use at all, she must accustom herself to the companionship of Madame Melmotte.


The man kept himself very much apart from her. She met him only at dinner, and that not often.

She met Mr. Melmotte only infrequently, at dinner.


Madame Melmotte was very bad; but she was silent, and seemed to understand that her guest was only her guest as a matter of business.


But Miss Longestaffe already perceived that her old acquaintances were changed in their manner to her.


She had written to her dear friend Lady Monogram, whom she had known intimately as Miss Triplex, and whose marriage with Sir Damask Monogram had been splendid preferment, telling how she had been kept down in Suffolk at the time of her friend's last party, and how she had been driven to consent to return to London as the guest of Madame Melmotte.

She had written to her dear friend Lady Monogram, whom she had known intimately as Miss Triplex, telling her she had been forced to consent to return to London as Madame Melmotte's guest.


She hoped her friend would not throw her off on that account.


She had been very affectionate, with a poor attempt at fun, and rather humble.


Georgiana Longestaffe had never been humble before; but the Monograms were people so much thought of and in such an excellent set!

Georgiana Longestaffe had never been humble before; but the Monograms were in such an excellent set!


She would do anything rather than lose the Monograms.


She had been humble in vain, for Lady Monogram had not even answered her note.


"She never really cared for anybody but herself," Georgiana said in her wretched solitude.

"She never really cared for anybody but herself," Georgiana said wretchedly.


Then, too, she had found that Lord Nidderdale's manner to her had been quite changed.

Then, too, Lord Nidderdale's manner to her had changed.


She was not a fool, and could read these signs with sufficient accuracy.

She was not a fool, and could read these signs.


There had been little flirtations between her and Nidderdale,--meaning nothing, as every one knew that Nidderdale must marry money; but in none of them had he spoken to her as he spoke when he met her in Madame Melmotte's drawing-room.


She could see it in the faces of people as they greeted her in the park,--especially in the faces of the men.

She could see it in the faces of people - especially the men - as they greeted her in the park.


She had always carried herself with a certain high demeanour, and had been able to maintain it.


All that was now gone from her, and she knew it.


Though the thing was as yet but a few days old she understood that others understood that she had degraded herself.

She already understood that others understood that she had degraded herself.


Lord Grasslough had said to her, seeing her come into a room behind Madame Melmotte.


She had simpered, had tried to laugh, and had then turned away her face.

She had tried to laugh, and had then turned away her face.


she said to herself, knowing that a fortnight ago he would not have dared to address her in such a tone.


A day or two afterwards an occurrence took place worthy of commemoration.

A day or two afterwards a memorable event occurred.


His mind must have been much stirred when he allowed himself to be moved to such uncommon action.

His mind must have been much stirred to move him to such uncommon action.


He came too at a very early hour, not much after noon, when it was his custom to be eating his breakfast in bed. He declared at once to the servant that he did not wish to see Madame Melmotte or any of the family. He had called to see his sister.

He came at a very early hour, not much after noon, and declared to the servant that he did not wish to see any of the family, only his sister.


He was therefore shown into a separate room where Georgiana joined him.

He was shown into a room where Georgiana joined him.


She tried to laugh as she tossed her head.


This is quite an unexpected compliment."


I can go anywhere without doing much harm.


"You needn't have come, I suppose, unless you liked it.


Is it because they are none of them coming up?"

Is it because they aren't coming up to London?"


What a wonderful young man you are for guessing!"


"No;--everybody does not come and stay here as you are doing.


Everybody doesn't make themselves a part of the family.


I have heard of nobody doing it except you.


I thought you used to think so much of yourself."


"I think as much of myself as ever I did," said Georgiana, hardly able to restrain her tears.


"I can tell you nobody else will think much of you if you remain here.


I could hardly believe it when Nidderdale told me."


"He didn't say much to me, but I could see what he thought.

"He didn't say much, but I could see what he thought.


And of course everybody thinks the same.


How you can like the people yourself is what I can't understand!"

I don't understand how you can like these people!"


"Then why do you come and live with them?"


"Oh, Dolly, it is impossible to make you understand.


You can go just where you please, and do what you like.


And if you're short of money, people will give you credit.


And you can live by yourself, and all that sort of thing.


How should you like to be shut up down at Caversham all the season?"


"I shouldn't mind it,--only for the governor."


"I mean altogether," said the poor girl, unable to be quite as explicit with her brother, as she had been with her father, and mother, and sister.

"I mean altogether," said the poor girl.


"I don't see how the Melmottes are to help you.


The long and the short of it is, you oughtn't to be here.


It's not often I interfere, but when I heard it I thought I'd come and tell you. I shall write to the governor, and tell him too.

It's not often I interfere, but I shall write to the governor, and tell him.


I am not going to see everything going to the devil without saying a word.


As soon as he had left he hurried down to some club that was open,--not the Beargarden, as it was long before the Beargarden hours,--and actually did write a letter to his father.

As soon as he had left he hurried down to some club, and actually did write to his father.


I have seen Georgiana at Mr. Melmotte's house.


I suppose you don't know it, but everybody says he's a swindler.


For the sake of the family I hope you will get her home again.


It seems to me that Bruton Street is the proper place for the girls at this time of the year.

I think Bruton Street is the proper place for the girls at this time of the year.


This letter fell upon old Mr. Longestaffe at Caversham like a thunderbolt.


It was marvellous to him that his son should have been instigated to write a letter.

It was extraordinary to him that his son should have written a letter.


The Melmottes must be very bad indeed,--worse than he had thought,--or their iniquities would not have brought about such energy as this.

The Melmottes must be very bad indeed for him to expend such energies.


But the passage which angered him most was that which told him that he ought to have taken his family back to town.

But he was angry at being told that he ought to have taken his family back to town.


This had come from his son, who had refused to do anything to help him in his difficulties.

This came from his son, who had refused to help him in his difficulties!


Dolly Longestaffe had found himself compelled to go to Fetter Lane immediately after that meeting in Bruton Street at which he had consented to wait two days longer for the payment of his money. This was on a Wednesday, the day appointed for the payment being Friday.

Dolly Longestaffe was promised his money on a Wednesday; the payment to be made on Friday.


He had undertaken that, on his part, Squercum should be made to desist from further immediate proceedings, and he could only carry out his word by visiting Squercum.

He had agreed that Squercum should be made to desist from further proceedings.


The trouble to him was very great, but he began to feel that he almost liked it.

The bother of visiting Squercum was very great, but he began to feel that he almost liked it.


The excitement was nearly as good as that of loo.


Of course it was a "horrid bore,"--this having to go about in cabs under the sweltering sun of a London July day.


Of course it was a "horrid bore,"--this doubt about his money.

Of course it was a "horrid bore," this doubt about his money.


And it went altogether against the grain with him that he should be engaged in any matter respecting the family property in agreement with his father and Mr. Bideawhile.


But there was an importance in it that sustained him amidst his troubles.


It is said that if you were to take a man of moderate parts and make him Prime Minister out of hand, he might probably do as well as other Prime Ministers, the greatness of the work elevating the man to its own level.


In that way Dolly was elevated to the level of a man of business, and felt and enjoyed his own capacity.

Dolly was elevated to the level of a man of business, and enjoyed his own capacity.


It depended chiefly upon him whether such a man as Melmotte should or should not be charged before the Lord Mayor.

Why, it depended chiefly upon him whether Melmotte should or should not be charged before the Lord Mayor.


"Perhaps I oughtn't to have promised," he said to Squercum, sitting in the lawyer's office on a high-legged stool with a cigar in his mouth.

"Perhaps I oughtn't to have promised," he said to Squercum, sitting in the lawyer's office with a cigar in his mouth.


He preferred Squercum to any other lawyer he had met because Squercum's room was untidy and homely, because there was nothing awful about it, and because he could sit in what position he pleased, and smoke all the time.

He preferred Squercum to any other lawyer he had met because Squercum's room was untidy, and he could sit where he pleased, and smoke all the time.


"Well; I don't think you ought, if you ask me," said Squercum.


"You weren't there to be asked, old fellow."


"Bideawhile shouldn't have asked you to agree to anything in my absence," said Squercum indignantly.


"It was a very unprofessional thing on his part, and so I shall take an opportunity of telling him."

"It was very unprofessional on his part."


I wanted you to see what they were at in that room; but I told you to look on and say nothing."

"I wanted you to see what they were at in that room.


Your father then is quite clear that you did not sign the letter?"


"Oh, yes;--the governor is pig-headed, you know, but he's honest."

"Oh, yes; the governor is pig-headed, you know, but he's honest."


"That's a matter of course," said the lawyer.


"All men are honest; but they are generally specially honest to their own side.

"All men are honest," said the lawyer, "but they are generally specially honest to their own side.


Bideawhile's honest; but you've got to fight him deuced close to prevent his getting the better of you.


Melmotte has promised to pay the money on Friday, has he?"


"He's to bring it with him to Bruton Street."


"I don't believe a word of it;--and I'm sure Bideawhile doesn't.


He'll give you a cheque dated on Monday, and that'll give him two days more, and then on Monday there'll be a note to say the money can't be lodged till Wednesday.

He'll give you a cheque dated for Monday, and that'll give him two days more, and then on Monday there'll be a note to say the money can't be lodged till Wednesday.


There should be no compromising with such a man.


You only get from one mess into another.


I told you neither to do anything or to say anything."


If you're there, there won't be any more compromising."


Squercum made one or two further remarks to his client, not at all flattering to Dolly's vanity,--which might have caused offence had not there been such perfectly good feeling between the attorney and the young man.

Squercum made one or two further unflattering remarks which might have caused offence had there not been such perfectly good feeling between the attorney and the young man.


As it was Dolly replied to everything that was said with increased flattery.


"If I was a sharp fellow like you, you know," said Dolly, "of course I should get along better; but I ain't, you know."


It was then settled that they should meet each other, and also meet Mr. Longestaffe senior, Bideawhile, and Melmotte, at twelve o'clock on Friday morning in Bruton Street.

It was settled that they should meet each other, and Mr. Longestaffe senior, Bideawhile, and Melmotte, at twelve o'clock on Friday in Bruton Street.


He had busied himself in this matter, and had ferreted things out, till he had pretty nearly got to the bottom of that affair about the houses in the East, and had managed to induce the heirs of the old man who had died to employ him.

He had ferreted things out, till he had pretty nearly got to the bottom of that affair about the houses in the East End, and he had managed to induce the heirs of the old man who had died to employ him.


As to the Pickering property he had not a doubt on the subject.

As to Pickering, he had not a doubt about it.


Old Longestaffe had been induced by promises of wonderful aid and by the bribe of a seat at the Board of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway to give up the title-deeds of the property,--as far as it was in his power to give them up; and had endeavoured to induce Dolly to do so also. As he had failed, Melmotte had supplemented his work by ingenuity, with which the reader is acquainted.

Old Longestaffe had been bribed with a seat at the Railway Board to give up the title-deeds; and when he had failed to induce Dolly to do the same, Melmotte had used his ingenuity.


All this was perfectly clear to Squercum, who thought that he saw before him a most attractive course of proceeding against the Great Financier.

All this was perfectly clear to Squercum.


It was pure ambition rather than any hope of lucre that urged him on.


He regarded Melmotte as a grand swindler,--perhaps the grandest that the world had ever known,--and he could conceive no greater honour than the detection, successful prosecution, and ultimate destroying of so great a man.

He regarded Melmotte as a grand swindler - perhaps the grandest that the world had ever known; and he could conceive no greater honour than the detection, successful prosecution, and ultimate destroying of so great a man.


To have hunted down Melmotte would make Squercum as great almost as Melmotte himself.


But he felt himself to have been unfairly hampered by his own client.


He did not believe that the money would be paid; but delay might rob him of his Melmotte.


He had heard a good many things in the City, and believed it to be quite out of the question that Melmotte should raise the money,--but there were various ways in which a man might escape.

He considered it to be out of the question that Melmotte should raise the money - but there were various ways in which a man might escape.


It may be remembered that Croll, the German clerk, preceded Melmotte into the City on Wednesday after Marie's refusal to sign the deeds.


He, too, had his eyes open, and had perceived that things were not looking as well as they used to look.


Croll had for many years been true to his patron, having been, upon the whole, very well paid for such truth.

Croll had for many years been true to his patron, having been well paid for such truth.


There had been times when things had gone badly with him, but he had believed in Melmotte, and, when Melmotte rose, had been rewarded for his faith.

When things had gone badly, he had believed in Melmotte, and had been rewarded for his faith.


Mr. Croll at the present time had little investments of his own, not made under his employer's auspices, which would leave him not absolutely without bread for his family should the Melmotte affairs at any time take an awkward turn.

Mr. Croll had little investments of his own, which would leave him some money should the Melmotte affairs take an awkward turn.


Melmotte had never required from him service that was actually fraudulent,--had at any rate never required it by spoken words. Mr. Croll had not been over-scrupulous, and had occasionally been very useful to Mr. Melmotte.

Melmotte had never required him to do anything that was actually fraudulent, although Mr. Croll had not been over-scrupulous.


But there must be a limit to all things; and why should any man sacrifice himself beneath the ruins of a falling house,--when convinced that nothing he can do can prevent the fall?

But there must be a limit to all things; and why should any man sacrifice himself beneath the ruins of a falling house?


Mr. Croll would have been of course happy to witness Miss Melmotte's signature; but as for that other kind of witnessing,--this clearly to his thinking was not the time for such good-nature on his part.

Mr. Croll would have been happy to witness Miss Melmotte's signature; but as for that other kind of witnessing, he was unwilling.


said one of the junior clerks to Mr. Croll when he entered the office in Abchurch Lane.


"A good deal will be up soon," said the German.


"He hasn't been civil enough to leave his address.


I fancy he don't want his friends to have to trouble themselves by writing to him.


Nobody seems to know what's become of him."


They're too hospitable in New York for Mr. Cohenlupe just at present.


He's on the continent somewhere,--half across France by this time; but nobody knows what route he has taken.

He's on the continent somewhere, half across France by this time; but nobody knows what route he has taken.


That'll be a poke in the ribs for the old boy;--eh, Croll?"

That'll be a poke in the ribs for the old boy; eh, Croll?"


"I wonder what has become of Miles Grendall," continued the clerk.


"Ven de rats is going avay it is bad for de house."


"There seems to have been a regular manufactory of Mexican Railway scrip."


"Our governor knew noding about dat," said Croll.


If they could have been kept up another fortnight they say Cohenlupe would have been worth nearly a million of money, and the governor would have been as good as the bank.

"If they could have been kept up another fortnight they say Cohenlupe would have been worth nearly a million, and the governor would have been as good as the bank.


Is it true they are going to have him before the Lord Mayor about the Pickering title-deeds?"

Is it true they are going to have him before the Lord Mayor?"


Croll declared that he knew nothing about the matter, and settled himself down to his work.

Croll declared that he knew nothing about it, and settled down to his work.


In little more than two hours he was followed by Melmotte, who thus reached the City late in the afternoon. It was he knew too late to raise the money on that day, but he hoped that he might pave the way for getting it on the next day, which would be Thursday.

In two hours he was followed by Melmotte, who knew it was too late that day to raise the money, but hoped to pave the way for getting it the next day, the Thursday.


Of course the first news which he heard was of the defection of Mr. Cohenlupe.

Of course the first news he heard was of the defection of Mr. Cohenlupe.


He turned back, and his jaw fell, but at first he said nothing.


He had a vast amount of my property in his hands.


"It never rains but it pours," said Melmotte.


I've been worse than I am now, Croll, as you know, and have had a hundred thousand pounds at my banker's,--loose cash,--before the month was out."

I've been worse than I am now, Croll, as you know, and have had a hundred thousand pounds before the month was out."


"But the worst of it is that every one around me is so damnably jealous.

"But the worst of it is that everyone around me is so damnably jealous.


It isn't what I've lost that will crush me, but what men will say that I've lost.


Ever since I began to stand for Westminster there has been a dead set against me in the City.

Ever since I stood for Westminster there has been a dead set against me in the City.


The whole of that affair of the dinner was planned,--planned by G----, that it might ruin me.

That affair of the dinner was planned so that it might ruin me.


It was all laid out just as you would lay the foundation of a building.


It is hard for one man to stand against all that when he has dealings so large as mine."


There's too much of the real stuff, Croll, for them to crush me.


Property's a kind of thing that comes out right at last.


It's cut and come again, you know, if the stuff is really there.


I suppose I shall find Brehgert in Cuthbert's Court."


Mr. Brehgert never leaves much before six."


Then Mr. Melmotte took his hat and gloves, and the stick that he usually carried, and went out with his face carefully dressed in its usually jaunty air.

Then Mr. Melmotte took his hat and gloves and stick, and went out with his face carefully dressed in its usually jaunty air.


But Croll as he went heard him mutter the name of Cohenlupe between his teeth.

But Croll heard him mutter the name of Cohenlupe between his teeth.


The part which he had to act is one very difficult to any actor.


The carrying an external look of indifference when the heart is sinking within,--or has sunk almost to the very ground,--is more than difficult; it is an agonizing task.

To look indifferent when the heart is sinking - or has sunk to the very ground - is an agonizing task.


In all mental suffering the sufferer longs for solitude,--for permission to cast himself loose along the ground, so that every limb and every feature of his person may faint in sympathy with his heart.


A grandly urbane deportment over a crushed spirit and ruined hopes is beyond the physical strength of most men;--but there have been men so strong.

A grandly urbane appearance over ruined hopes is beyond the strength of most men.


It was only to the eyes of such a one as Herr Croll that the failure was perceptible.


Melmotte did find Mr. Brehgert. At this time Mr. Brehgert had completed his correspondence with Miss Longestaffe, in which he had mentioned the probability of great losses from the anticipated commercial failure in Mr. Melmotte's affairs.

Melmotte found Mr. Brehgert, who at this time had completed his correspondence with Miss Longestaffe, in which he had mentioned the probability of great losses.


He had now heard that Mr. Cohenlupe had gone upon his travels, and was therefore nearly sure that his anticipation would be correct.

He had now heard that Mr. Cohenlupe had gone upon his travels, and was therefore sure that his anticipation would be correct.


Nevertheless, he received his old friend with a smile.


When large sums of money are concerned there is seldom much of personal indignation between man and man.

When large sums of money are concerned there is seldom personal indignation between man and man.


The loss of fifty pounds or of a few hundreds may create personal wrath;--but fifty thousand require equanimity.

The loss of fifty pounds may create personal wrath; but fifty thousand require equanimity.


"So Cohenlupe hasn't been seen in the City to-day," said Brehgert.

"So Cohenlupe hasn't been seen in the City today," said Brehgert.


"I think I once told you that Cohenlupe was not the man for large dealings."


Then Melmotte explained to Mr. Brehgert what it was that he wanted then, taking the various documents out of the bag which throughout the afternoon he had carried in his hand.

Then Melmotte explained to Mr. Brehgert what he wanted, taking the various documents out of his bag.


Mr. Brehgert understood enough of his friend's affairs, and enough of affairs in general, to understand readily all that was required.

Mr. Brehgert understood readily all that was required.


He examined the documents, declaring as he did so that he did not know how the thing could be arranged by Friday.

He examined the documents, declaring that he did not know how the thing could be arranged by Friday.


Melmotte replied that 50,000 was not a very large sum of money, that the security offered was worth twice as much as that.

Melmotte replied that 50,000 was not a very large sum, and the security offered was worth twice that.


"You will leave them with me this evening," said Brehgert.


Melmotte paused for a moment, and said that he would of course do so.


He would have given much, very much, to have been sufficiently master of himself to have assented without hesitation;--but then the weight within was so very heavy!

He would have given much to have been sufficiently master of himself to have assented without hesitation; but the weight within him was so very heavy!


Having left the papers and the bag with Mr. Brehgert, he walked westwards to the House of Commons.


He was accustomed to remain in the City later than this, often not leaving it till seven,--though during the last week or ten days he had occasionally gone down to the House in the afternoon.

During the last week he had occasionally gone down to the House in the afternoon.


It was now Wednesday, and there was no evening sitting;--but his mind was too full of other things to allow him to remember this.

Today there was no evening sitting; but his mind was too full of other things to allow him to remember this.


As he walked along the Embankment, his thoughts were very heavy.


How would things go with him?--What would be the end of it?


Ruin;--yes, but there were worse things than ruin.

Ruin; yes, but there were worse things than ruin.


And a short time since he had been so fortunate;--had made himself so safe!

And a short time ago, he had made himself so safe!


As he looked back at it, he could hardly say how it had come to pass that he had been driven out of the track that he had laid down for himself.

As he looked back at it, he could hardly say how he had been driven out of the track that he had laid down for himself.


He had known that ruin would come, and had made himself so comfortably safe, so brilliantly safe, in spite of ruin.


But insane ambition had driven him away from his anchorage.

Insane ambition had tempted him away from his anchorage.


He told himself over and over again that the fault had been not in circumstances,--not in that which men call Fortune,--but in his own incapacity to bear his position.

He blamed himself, not his circumstances.


If he could only begin again, how different would his conduct be!


But of what avail were such regrets as these?

But of what use were such regrets as these?


He must take things as they were now, and see that, in dealing with them, he allowed himself to be carried away neither by pride nor cowardice.

He must take things as they were now, and not allow himself to be carried away by pride or cowardice.


And if the worst should come to the worst, then let him face it like a man!


There was a certain manliness about him which showed itself perhaps as strongly in his own self-condemnation as in any other part of his conduct at this time.

There was a certain manliness about him which showed itself in his self-condemnation.


Judging of himself, as though he were standing outside himself and looking on to another man's work, he pointed out to himself his own shortcomings.

Judging himself, he pointed out to himself his own shortcomings.


If it were all to be done again he thought that he could avoid this bump against the rocks on one side, and that terribly shattering blow on the other.


There was much that he was ashamed of,--many a little act which recurred to him vividly in this solitary hour as a thing to be repented of with inner sackcloth and ashes.

There was much that he was ashamed of; many a little act which recurred to him vividly in this solitary hour as a thing to be repented of.


But never once, not for a moment, did it occur to him that he should repent of the fraud in which his whole life had been passed.

Yet never for a moment did it occur to him to repent of the fraud in which his whole life had been passed.


No idea ever crossed his mind of what might have been the result had he lived the life of an honest man.


Though he was inquiring into himself as closely as he could, he never even told himself that he had been dishonest.


Fraud and dishonesty had been the very principle of his life, and had so become a part of his blood and bones that even in this extremity of his misery he made no question within himself as to his right judgment in regard to them.

Fraud and dishonesty had been the very principle of his life, and had so become a part of his blood and bones that even in this extremity of misery he did not question them.


Not to cheat, not to be a scoundrel, not to live more luxuriously than others by cheating more brilliantly, was a condition of things to which his mind had never turned itself.

Not to cheat, not to be a scoundrel, was a condition of things to which his mind had never turned itself.


In that respect he accused himself of no want of judgment.


But why had he, so unrighteous himself, not made friends to himself of the Mammon of unrighteousness? Why had he not conciliated Lord Mayors?

But why had he not conciliated Lord Mayors?


Why had he trod upon all the corns of all his neighbours?


Why had he been insolent at the India Office?


Why had he trusted any man as he had trusted Cohenlupe?


Why had he not stuck to Abchurch Lane instead of going into Parliament?


Why had he called down unnecessary notice on his head by entertaining the Emperor of China?


It was too late now, and he must bear it; but these were the things that had ruined him.


He walked into Palace Yard and across it, to the door of Westminster Abbey, before he found out that Parliament was not sitting.


Of course it is," he said, turning round and directing his steps towards Grosvenor Square.


Then he remembered that in the morning he had declared his purpose of dining at home, and now he did not know what better use to make of the present evening.

Now he did not know what use to make of the evening.


His house could hardly be very comfortable to him.


Marie no doubt would keep out of his way, and he did not habitually receive much pleasure from his wife's company.


But in his own house he could at least be alone.


Then, as he walked slowly across the park, thinking so intently on matters as hardly to observe whether he himself were observed or no, he asked himself whether it still might not be best for him to keep the money which was settled on his daughter, to tell the Longestaffes that he could make no payment, and to face the worst that Mr. Squercum could do to him,--for he knew already how busy Mr. Squercum was in the matter.

Then, as he walked slowly across the park, thinking intently, he asked himself whether it still might not be best for him to keep the money which was settled on his daughter, to tell the Longestaffes that he could make no payment, and to face the worst that Mr. Squercum could do.


Though they should put him on his trial for forgery, what of that?

Though they should put him on trial for forgery, what of that?


He had heard of trials in which the accused criminals had been heroes to the multitude while their cases were in progress,--who had been fted from the beginning to the end though no one had doubted their guilt,--and who had come out unscathed at the last.

He had heard of trials in which the accused criminals had been heroes - had been fted though no one had doubted their guilt - and had come out unscathed at last.


It might be that the Longestaffes and Bideawhiles and Squercums should know that he was a forger, but their knowledge would not produce a verdict.


He, as member for Westminster, as the man who had entertained the Emperor, as the owner of one of the most gorgeous houses in London, as the great Melmotte, could certainly command the best half of the bar.

He, the great Melmotte, could certainly command a better lawyer.


He already felt what popular support might do for him.


Surely there need be no despondency while so good a hope remained to him!


He did tremble as he remembered Dolly Longestaffe's letter, and the letter of the old man who was dead.


And he knew that it was possible that other things might be adduced; but would it not be better to face it all than surrender his money and become a pauper, seeing, as he did very clearly, that even by such surrender he could not cleanse his character?

But would it not be better to face it all than to surrender his money and become a pauper?


But he had given those forged documents into the hands of Mr. Brehgert!


Again he had acted in a hurry,--without giving sufficient thought to the matter in hand.

Again he had acted in a hurry, without sufficient thought.


He was angry with himself for that also.


But how is a man to give sufficient thought to his affairs when no step that he takes can be other than ruinous?

But how is a man to give sufficient thought to his affairs when every step is ruinous?


Yes;--he had certainly put into Brehgert's hands means of proving him to have been absolutely guilty of forgery.

Yes - he had certainly put into Brehgert's hands means of proving him to be absolutely guilty of forgery.


He did not think that Marie would disclaim the signatures, even though she had refused to sign the deeds, when she should understand that her father had written her name; nor did he think that his clerk would be urgent against him, as the forgery of Croll's name could not injure Croll.

He did not think that Marie would disclaim the signatures; nor did he think that his clerk Croll would be urgent against him.


But Brehgert, should he discover what had been done, would certainly not permit him to escape.


And now he had put these forgeries without any guard into Brehgert's hands.


He would tell Brehgert in the morning that he had changed his mind.


He would see Brehgert before any action could have been taken on the documents, and Brehgert would no doubt restore them to him.

He would see him before any action could have been taken on the documents, and Brehgert would restore them to him.


Then he would instruct his daughter to hold the money fast, to sign no paper that should be put before her, and to draw the income herself.

Then he would instruct his daughter to hold the money fast, to sign no paper, and to draw the income herself.


Having done that, he would let his foes do their worst.


He had an idea that he could not be admitted to bail if accused of forgery.


If convicted he would bear the punishment, still hoping that an end might come.


But how great was the chance that they might fail to convict him!


As to the dead man's letter, and as to Dolly Longestaffe's letter, he did not think that any sufficient evidence could be found.


The evidence as to the deeds by which Marie was to have released the property was indeed conclusive; but he believed that he might still recover those documents.


For the present it must be his duty to do nothing,--when he should have recovered and destroyed those documents,--and to live before the eyes of men as though he feared nothing.

For the present he must do nothing - once he had recovered and destroyed those documents - and would live as though he feared nothing.


He dined at home alone, in the study, and after dinner carefully went through various bundles of papers, preparing them for the eyes of those ministers of the law who would probably before long have the privilege of searching them.

He dined at home alone, in the study, and after dinner carefully went through various bundles of papers, preparing them for the eyes of those lawyers who would probably before long be searching them.


At dinner, and while he was thus employed, he drank a bottle of champagne,--feeling himself greatly comforted by the process.

While he was doing this, he drank a bottle of champagne, and felt greatly comforted by the process.


If he could only hold up his head and look men in the face, he thought that he might still live through it all.

If he could only hold up his head, he might still live through it all.


How much had he done by his own unassisted powers!


He had once been imprisoned for fraud at Hamburgh, and had come out of gaol a pauper; friendless, with all his wretched antecedents against him. Now he was a member of the British House of Parliament, the undoubted owner of perhaps the most gorgeously furnished house in London, a man with an established character for high finance,--a commercial giant whose name was a familiar word on all the exchanges of the two hemispheres.

He had once been imprisoned for fraud at Hamburg, and had come out of jail a friendless pauper; now he was a member of the British House of Parliament, the owner of perhaps the most gorgeously furnished house in London, and commercial giant.


Even though he should be condemned to penal servitude for life, he would not all die.


He rang the bell and desired that Madame Melmotte might be sent to him, and bade the servant bring him brandy.


In ten minutes his poor wife came crawling into the room.


Every one connected with Melmotte regarded the man with a certain amount of awe,--every one except Marie, to whom alone he had at times been himself almost gentle.


The servants all feared him, and his wife obeyed him implicitly when she could not keep away from him.


She came in now and stood opposite to him, while he spoke to her.


She never sat in his presence in that room.


He asked her where she and Marie kept their jewelry;--for during the last twelvemonths rich trinkets had been supplied to both of them.

He asked her where she and Marie kept their jewellery.


Of course she answered by another question.


"Is anything going to happen, Melmotte?"


Are they here in this house, or in Grosvenor Square?"

Are the jewels here in this house, or in Grosvenor Square?"


"Then have them all packed up,--as small as you can; never mind about wool and cases and all that.

"Then have them all packed up, as small as you can.


Have them close to your hand so that if you have to move you can take them with you.

Have them close to hand so that if you have to move you can take them with you.


You ought to know by this time that when a man's work is such as mine, things will happen.


Whatever there is to be borne, I suppose it is I must bear it.


I have not had it very soft all my life hitherto, and I don't think it's going to be very soft now."


You talk of moving as though that were the worst thing that could happen.


How would you like to be in some place where they wouldn't let you move?"


"Tell me, Melmotte;--are they going to?"


Then the poor woman did sit down, overcome by her feelings.

The poor woman sat down, overcome by her feelings.


"I didn't ask you to come here for a scene," said Melmotte.


"Do as I bid you about your own jewels, and Marie's.

"Do as I bid you about your jewels, and Marie's.


The thing is to have them in small compass, and that you should not have it to do at the last moment, when you will be flurried and incapable.

The thing is not to have it to do at the last moment, when you will be flurried.


Now you needn't stay any longer, and it's no good asking any questions because I shan't answer them."


So dismissed, the poor woman crept out again, and immediately, after her own slow fashion, went to work with her ornaments.

So dismissed, the poor woman crept out again, and went to work with her ornaments.


Melmotte sat up during the greater part of the night, sometimes sipping brandy and water, and sometimes smoking.

Melmotte sat up most of the night, sipping brandy and water, and sometimes smoking.


But he did no work, and hardly touched a paper after his wife left him.

But he hardly touched a paper after his wife left him.


Miss Ruby Ruggles, the granddaughter of old Daniel Ruggles, of Sheep's Acre, in the parish of Sheepstone, close to Bungay, received the following letter from the hands of the rural post letter-carrier on that Sunday morning;--"A friend will be somewhere near Sheepstone Birches between four and five o'clock on Sunday afternoon."

Miss Ruby Ruggles, the granddaughter of old Daniel Ruggles, of Sheep's Acre, near Bungay, received the following letter from the rural postman that Sunday morning:
"A friend will be near Sheepstone Birches between four and five on Sunday afternoon."


There was not another word in the letter, but Miss Ruby Ruggles knew well from whom it came.

There was not another word in the letter, but Miss Ruby Ruggles knew from whom it came.


Daniel Ruggles was a farmer, who had the reputation of considerable wealth, but who was not very well looked on in the neighbourhood as being somewhat of a curmudgeon and a miser.

Daniel Ruggles was a farmer, who had the reputation of wealth, but also the reputation of being a curmudgeon and a miser.


His wife was dead;--he had quarrelled with his only son, whose wife was also dead, and had banished him from his home;--his daughters were married and away; and the only member of his family who lived with him was his granddaughter Ruby.

His wife was dead; he had quarrelled with his only son, and had banished him from his home; his daughters were married and had moved away; and the only member of his family who lived with him was his granddaughter Ruby.


And this granddaughter was a great trouble to the old man. She was twenty-three years old, and had been engaged to a prosperous young man at Bungay in the meal and pollard line, to whom old Ruggles had promised to give 500 on their marriage.

This granddaughter was twenty-three, and had been engaged to a prosperous young man at Bungay in the corn-meal and bran line, to whom old Ruggles had promised to give 500 on their marriage.


But Ruby had taken it into her foolish young head that she did not like meal and pollard, and now she had received the above very dangerous letter.

But Ruby had taken it into her foolish young head that she did not like meal and bran, and now she had received the above very dangerous letter.