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Meredith, George, 1828-1909

"Complete Short Works of George Meredith"

She touched the fish and pressed the bellies of the topmost, it
might be to question them tenderly concerning their roes. Then the couple
passed out of sight. Herrings were soon after this despatching their
odours through the chimneys of all Crikswich, and there was that much of
concord and festive union among the inhabitants.
The house on the beach had been posted where it stood, one supposes, for
the sake of the sea-view, from which it turned right about to face the
town across a patch of grass and salt scurf, looking like a square and
scornful corporal engaged in the perpetual review of an awkward squad of
recruits. Sea delighted it not, nor land either. Marine Parade fronting
it to the left, shaded sickly eyes, under a worn green verandah, from a
sun that rarely appeared, as the traducers of spinsters pretend those
virgins are ever keenly on their guard against him that cometh not. Belle
Vue Terrace stared out of lank glass panes without reserve, unashamed of
its yellow complexion. A gaping public-house, calling itself newly Hotel,
fell backward a step.


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