Urquhart

Willimon felt that Frank Underwood as a name “felt Dickensian and more legitimately American” than Francis Urquhart.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Urquhart says to a framed picture of Maggie Thatcher.

Even more emphatically, Urquhart—with a roguish smile—turns her picture facedown on his desk.

And he hastened away to have a last word with Mrs. Craig-Urquhart, who was swimming languidly by.

Between ten and eleven, Urquhart had a cynical countenance, which implied that his faith in humanity was gone.

First, Urquhart was openly contemptuous of it, and there seemed a probability of its only being used as a missile.

A ring was immediately formed round Urquhart and Robbins, which I had the pleasure of breaking up.

Thus brought to bay, Jenkinson solemnly declared that he meant to make Urquhart an offer that very day.