Wikipedia
Verey is an English surname. It is a variant of Very, which is of English origin. It derives from a locational name of an unidentified place in northern France, named with the Gaulish element "ver(n), alder, of the Gallo-Roman personal name "verus", true, and the local suffix "-acum".
Development of the name since 1569 includes the following: William Very (1600, London), Robert (1613, Oxford) and Samuel Verry (1795, London). The modern surname can be found as Very, Verry, Verrey and Verey.
Notable persons with the surname include:
- David Verey (born 1950) - English banker and philanthropist
- Henry Verey (1836-1920) - Official Referee of the Supreme Court of Judicature
- Roger Verey (1912-2000) - Polish Olympic rower
- Rosemary Verey (1918-2001) - British garden designer, lecturer and writer
Usage examples of "verey".
Simon Verey leant on the table and addressed his friend in tones that would have led Henry March night to call him out under any other circumstances.
And Verey understood his desperation, but he thought Henry had miscalculated.
He was in a lively group with Simon Verey, his wife Therese and some of their friends, all laughing animatedly at a remark Lady Verey had just made.
Henry asked lightly, smiling as always to think of Jane Verey with so weighty a title.
Lucille, who had been exchanging a few words with Therese and Simon Verey, looked rueful.
Therese Verey brought her horse alongside at that point and Henry fell back to talk to Simon.
There was a carriage drawn up in the yard, pulled by the four showy white horses which Lord Verey had just been disparaging.
Simon Verey had a quick word with Henry, who seemed to disappear as quickly as Lady Bolt had done.
And Simon Verey had hastened away to attend to the setting to of his carriage.
Polly, vigourously fanning herself after attempting the boulanger with Simon Verey, could only be grateful that this was the very last ball of the Season and they would shortly be leaving Town.
Henry was dancing with Therese Verey and Polly attempted the difficult manoeuvre of trying to see his face whilst executing the complicated steps of the dance.
And so we picked invented names, the stranger the better: I changed into Neesa Allalie, Henry turned into Verey, Florence into Lanty.
The act at that time consisted of Neesa Allalie and her children Verey and Lanty.
Later, when we got to San Francisco, I cornered Verey and his sister Lanty and asked them.
In one contemporary newspaper account Verey Allalie steps on to the stage, takes off his top hat, and draws out stars, which he throws to the ceiling.