"He promised he'd pay my college bills, when my father died; he promised he'd build the new wing to the Rectory; he promised he'd let me have Jibb's field and the Six-acre Meadow--and much he executed his promises! And it's to this man's son--this scoundrel, gambler, swindler, murderer of a Rawdon Crawley, that Matilda leaves the bulk of her money.

I say it's un-Christian.

By Jove, it is.

The infamous dog has got every vice except hypocrisy, and that belongs to his brother." "Hush, my dearest love! we're in Sir Pitt's grounds," interposed his wife.
"I say he has got every vice, Mrs.Crawley.

Don't Ma'am, bully me.
Didn't he shoot Captain Marker?
Didn't he rob young Lord Dovedale at the Cocoa-Tree?
Didn't he cross the fight between Bill Soames and the Cheshire Trump, by which I lost forty pound?
You know he did; and as for the women, why, you heard that before me, in my own magistrate's room." "For heaven's sake, Mr.Crawley," said the lady, "spare me the details." "And you ask this villain into your house!" continued the exasperated Rector.