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"Yes," said Mr Brooke, "this would be a pretty roo A little bare now"

"No, uncle," said Dorothea, eagerly "Pray do not speak of altering

anything There are so --I like to take these things as they are And you like the at Mr Casaubon "Perhaps

this was your "

"It was," he said, with his slow bend of the head

"This is your roup of ht me; only, I

should think, a better portrait And this one opposite, who is this?"

"Her elder sister They were, like you and your sister, the only two

children of their parents, who hang above the that she thought less

favorably of Mr Casaubon's ination, that he ca in their

ti necklaces

"It is a peculiar face," said Dorothea, looking closely "Those deep

gray eyes rather near together--and the delicate irregular nose with a

sort of ripple in it--and all the powdered curls hanging backward

Altogether it seems to me peculiar rather than pretty There is not

even a family likeness between her and your mother"

"No And they were not alike in their lot"