man queerer than any of them: a little round head with bulging eyes—a sort of frog-face—do look. He must be of another blood, I think."
"Let me see!" said Celia, with awakened curiosity, standing behind Mrs Cadwallader and leaning forward over her head. "Oh, what an odd face!" Then with a quick change to another sort of surprised expression, she added, "Why, Dodo, you never told me that Mr Ladislaw was come again!"
Dorothea felt a shock of alarm: every one noticed her sudden paleness as she looked up immediately at her uncle, while Mr Casaubon looked at her.
"He came with me, you know; he is my guest—puts up with me at the Grange," said Mr Brooke, in his easiest tone, nodding at Dorothea, as if the announcement were just what she might have expected. "And we have brought the picture at the top of the carriage. I knew you would be pleased with the surprise, Casaubon. There you are to the very life—as Aquinas, you know. Quite the right sort of thing. And you will hear young Ladislaw talk about it. He talks uncommonly well—points out this, that, and the other-knows art and everything of that kind—companionable, you know—is up with you