Summary

Portrait of Charles Dickens Charles Dickens Bleak House — Chapter XXXVII: Jarndyce and Jarndyce (1852)

Pray, pray, dear Richard, for my sake, and for your own, and in a natural repugnance for that source of trouble which had its share in making us both orphans when we were very young, pray, pray, let it go for ever. We have reason to know by this time that there is no good in it and no hope, that there is nothing to be got from it but sorrow.
My dearest cousin, it is needless for me to say that you are quite free and that it is very likely you may find some one whom you will love much better than your first fancy.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Charles Dickens Charles Dickens Bleak House — Chapter XXXVII: Jarndyce and Jarndyce (1852)

His further consideration of the point was prevented by Richard’s coming back to us in an excited state and hastily representing Mr. Vholes—a sallow man with pinched lips that looked as if they were cold, a red eruption here and there upon his face, tall and thin, about fifty years of age, high-shouldered, and stooping. Dressed in black, black-gloved, and buttoned to the chin, there was nothing so remarkable in him as a lifeless manner and a slow, fixed way he had of looking at Richard.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Charles Dickens Charles Dickens Bleak House — Chapter XXXVII: Jarndyce and Jarndyce (1852)

Our out-of-door life easily threw one in my way, and I delicately said that there was a responsibility in encouraging Richard.
“Responsibility, my dear Miss Summerson?” he repeated, catching at the word with the pleasantest smile. “I am the last man in the world for such a thing. I never was responsible in my life—I can’t be.”
“I am afraid everybody is obliged to be,” said I timidly enough, he being so much older and more clever than I.
“No, really?” said Mr. Skimpole, receiving this new light with a most agreeable jocularity of surprise. “But every man’s not obliged to be solvent? I am not.
Source: Wikisource

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