mysterious money had stood to him as the symbol of earthly good, and the immediate object of toil. He had seemed to love it little in the years when every penny had its purpose for him; for he loved the purpose then. But now, when all purpose was gone, that habit of looking towards the money and grasping it with a sense of fulfilled effort made a loam that was deep enough for the seeds of desire.
George EliotAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer
- Nationality: british
- Born: November 22, 1819
- Died: December 22, 1880