'Do you think my dear nieces pretty?' whispered their
affectionate aunt to Mr. Tupman.
'I should, if their aunt wasn't here,' replied the ready
Pickwickian, with a passionate glance.
'Oh, you naughty man--but really, if their complexions were a
little better, don't you think they would be nice-looking girls--
by candlelight?'
'Yes; I think they would,' said Mr. Tupman, with an air
of indifference.
'Oh, you quiz--I know what you were going to say.'
'What?' inquired Mr. Tupman, who had not precisely made
up his mind to say anything at all.
'You were going to say that Isabel stoops--I know you were--
you men are such observers. Well, so she does; it can't be denied;
and, certainly, if there is one thing more than another that makes
a girl look ugly it is stooping. I often tell her that when she gets a
little older she'll be quite frightful. Well, you are a quiz!'
Mr. Tupman had no objection to earning the reputation at so
cheap a rate: so he looked very knowing, and smiled mysteriously.
'What a sarcastic smile,' said the admiring Rachael; 'I declare
I'm quite afraid of you.'
'Afraid of me!'
'Oh, you can't disguise anything from me--I know what that
smile means very well.
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