Condy is both a surname and a given name. Notable people with the name include:
- Gillian Condy (born 1952), South African botanical artist
- Henry Bollmann Condy, 19th century British chemist and industrialist
- Nicholas Condy (1793-1857), English landscape painter
- Nicholas Matthews Condy (1816-1851), British maritime painter, son of Nicholas Condy
- Richard Condie (born 1942), Canadian animator, film maker and musician
- Richard P. Condie (1898-1985), conductor of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir from 1957 to 1974
- Spencer J. Condie (born 1940), general authority of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
- Condy Raguet (1784-1842), American politician and free trade advocate, first chargé d'affaires to Brazil
- Condy Dabney, American convicted of murdering a girl who was later found alive in 1927
Usage examples of "condy".
Richard brought them their coffee and kirsch, and Condy showed Blix how to burn a lump of sugar and sweeten the coffee with syrup.
Conde, which, however, upon Anglo-Saxon tongues, had been promptly modified to Condy, or even, among his familiar and intimate friends, to Conny.
A few moments later, while Travers and Condy were still discussing this story, Mr.
They all bade Condy good-night and took themselves away, Howard lingering a moment in the door in the hope of the nickel he dared not ask for.
Travis preceded Condy, and turned up one of the burners in colored globe of the little brass chandelier.
Travis dropped upon the shrouded sofa, and Condy set himself carefully down on one of the frail chairs with its spindling golden legs, and they began to talk.
Even while he struggled to save the situation Condy was wondering if they two were talked out--if they had lost charm for each other.
They had flirted rather desperately, and at times Condy even told himself that he loved this girl so much younger than he--this girl with the smiling eyes and robust figure and yellow hair, who was so frank, so straightforward, and so wonderfully pretty.
But evidently they had come to the last move in the game, and as Condy reflected that after all he had never known the real Travis, that the girl whom he told himself he knew through and through was only the Travis of dinner parties and afternoon functions, he was suddenly surprised to experience a sudden qualm of deep and genuine regret.
For Condy had joined a certain San Francisco club of artists, journalists, musicians, and professional men that is one of the institutions of the city, and, in fact, famous throughout the United States.
It bore upon the envelope the name of a New York publishing house to whom Condy had sent a collection of his short stories about a month before.
Travis and Condy edged their way among piles of wheat-bags, dodging drays and rumbling trucks, and finally brought up at the after gangplank, where a sailor halted them.
While Condy was interviewing the old fellow, Travis was examining, with the interest of a child, the details of the cabin: the racklike bunk, the washstand, ingeniously constructed so as to shut into the bulkhead when not in use, the alarm-clock screwed to the wall, and the array of photographs thrust into the mirror between frame and glass.
As Travis and Condy were going down the gangplank they met the captain of the whaleback coming up.
Then Condy promptly got the hiccoughs from drinking his tea too fast, and fretted up and down the room like a chicken with the pip till Travis grew faint and weak with laughter.