"Draw a bill on your brother," said Robinson, "and let him accept it.
The Farnborough Bank will give you notes for it. These country banks
like any paper better than their own. I dare say they are right."

George had done this, and expected William every minute with this and
other moneys. And then Susanna Merton was to dine at "The Grove"
to-day, and this, though not uncommon, was always a great event with
poor George.

Dilly would not come to be killed just when he was wanted. In other
words, Robinson, who had no idea how he was keeping people waiting,
fished tranquilly till near dinner-time, neither taking nor being
taken.

This detained Meadows in the neighborhood of the farm, and was the
cause of his rencontre with a very singular personage, whose visit he
knew at sight must be to him.

As he hovered about among George Fielding's ricks, the figure of an
old man slightly bowed but full of vigor stood before him. He had a
long gray beard with a slight division in the center, hair abundant
but almost white, and a dark, swarthy complexion that did not belong
to England; his thick eyebrows also were darker than his hair, and
under them was an eye like a royal jewel; his voice had the Oriental
richness and modulation--this old man was Isaac Levi; an Oriental Jew
who had passed half his life under the sun's eye, and now, though the
town of Farnborough had long been too accustomed to him to wonder at
him, he dazzled any thoughtful stranger; so exotic and apart was
he--so romantic a grain in a heap of vulgarity--he was as though a
striped jasper had crept in among the paving-stones of their