Identifier: bleakhouse00dick (find matches)
Title: Bleak house
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Dickens, Charles, 1837-1896, ed Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882, illus
Subjects: Young women Guardian and ward Illegitimate children Inheritance and succession
Publisher: New York, London, Macmillan and co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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edlock. I beg your pardon a thou-sand times. It is so very unusual to find you here at this hour.I supposed the room was empty. I beg your pardon ! Stay ! She negligently calls him back. Remain here, Ibeg. I am going out to dinner. I have nothing more to say tothis young man ! The disconcerted young man bows, as he goes out, and cringingly jhopes that Mr. Tulkinghorn of the Fields is well. Aye, aye? says the lawyer, looking at him from under his ibent brows; though he has no need to look again — not he. From Kenge and Carboys, surely 1 Kenge and Carboys, Mr. Tulkinghorn. Name of Guppy, sir. To be sure. Why, thank you, Mr. Guppy, I am very weU! Happy to hear it, sir. You cant be too well, sir, for thecredit of the profession. Thank you, Mr. Guppy ! Mr. Guppy sneaks away. Mr. Tulkinghorn, such a foil in hisold-fashioned rusty black to Lady Dedlocks brightness, hands herdown the staircase to her carriage. He returns rubbing his chin,and rubs it a good deal in the course of the evening.
Text Appearing After Image:
THE OLD MAN OF THE NAME OF TULKINGHORN. 438 BLEAK HOUSE. CHAPTER XXXIV. A TURN OF THE SCREW. Now, what, says Mr. George, may this be? Is it blankcartridge, or ball ? A flash in the pan, or a shot ? An open letter is the subject of the troopers speculations, and itseems to perplex him mightily. He looks at it at arms length,brings it close to him, holds it in his right hand, holds it in hisleft hand, reads it with his head on this side, with his head on thatside, contracts his eyebrows, elevates them; still, cannot satisfyhimself. He smooths it out upon the table with his heavy palm,and thoughtfidly walking up and down the gallery, makes a haltbefore it every now and then, to come upon it with a fresh eye.Even that wont do. Is it, Mr. G-eorge still muses, blankcartridge or ball ? Phil Squod, with the aid of a brush and paint-pot, is employedin the distance whitening the targets; softly whistling, in quick-march time, and in drum-and-fife manner, that he must and he willgo back again to

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