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"
So
much
the
better
,
"
thought
Celia
.
"
But
how
strangely
Dodo
goes
from
one
extreme
to
the
other
.
"
The
next
day
,
at
luncheon
,
the
butler
,
handing
something
to
Mr
.
Brooke
,
said
,
"
Jonas
is
come
back
,
sir
,
and
has
brought
this
letter
.
"
Mr
.
Brooke
read
the
letter
,
and
then
,
nodding
toward
Dorothea
,
said
,
"
Casaubon
,
my
dear
:
he
will
be
here
to
dinner
;
he
didn
’
t
wait
to
write
more
—
didn
’
t
wait
,
you
know
.
"
It
could
not
seem
remarkable
to
Celia
that
a
dinner
guest
should
be
announced
to
her
sister
beforehand
,
but
,
her
eyes
following
the
same
direction
as
her
uncle
’
s
,
she
was
struck
with
the
peculiar
effect
of
the
announcement
on
Dorothea
.
It
seemed
as
if
something
like
the
reflection
of
a
white
sunlit
wing
had
passed
across
her
features
,
ending
in
one
of
her
rare
blushes
.
For
the
first
time
it
entered
into
Celia
’
s
mind
that
there
might
be
something
more
between
Mr
.
Casaubon
and
her
sister
than
his
delight
in
bookish
talk
and
her
delight
in
listening
.
Hitherto
she
had
classed
the
admiration
for
this
"
ugly
"
and
learned
acquaintance
with
the
admiration
for
Monsieur
Liret
at
Lausanne
,
also
ugly
and
learned
.
Dorothea
had
never
been
tired
of
listening
to
old
Monsieur
Liret
when
Celia
’
s
feet
were
as
cold
as
possible
,
and
when
it
had
really
become
dreadful
to
see
the
skin
of
his
bald
head
moving
about
.
Why
then
should
her
enthusiasm
not
extend
to
Mr
.
Casaubon
simply
in
the
same
way
as
to
Monsieur
Liret
?
And
it
seemed
probable
that
all
learned
men
had
a
sort
of
schoolmaster
’
s
view
of
young
people
.
But
now
Celia
was
really
startled
at
the
suspicion
which
had
darted
into
her
mind
.
She
was
seldom
taken
by
surprise
in
this
way
,
her
marvellous
quickness
in
observing
a
certain
order
of
signs
generally
preparing
her
to
expect
such
outward
events
as
she
had
an
interest
in
.
Not
that
she
now
imagined
Mr
.
Casaubon
to
be
already
an
accepted
lover
:
she
had
only
begun
to
feel
disgust
at
the
possibility
that
anything
in
Dorothea
’
s
mind
could
tend
towards
such
an
issue
.
Here
was
something
really
to
vex
her
about
Dodo
:
it
was
all
very
well
not
to
accept
Sir
James
Chettam
,
but
the
idea
of
marrying
Mr
.
Casaubon
!
Celia
felt
a
sort
of
shame
mingled
with
a
sense
of
the
ludicrous
.
But
perhaps
Dodo
,
if
she
were
really
bordering
on
such
an
extravagance
,
might
be
turned
away
from
it
:
experience
had
often
shown
that
her
impressibility
might
be
calculated
on
.
The
day
was
damp
,
and
they
were
not
going
to
walk
out
,
so
they
both
went
up
to
their
sitting
-
room
;
and
there
Celia
observed
that
Dorothea
,
instead
of
settling
down
with
her
usual
diligent
interest
to
some
occupation
,
simply
leaned
her
elbow
on
an
open
book
and
looked
out
of
the
window
at
the
great
cedar
silvered
with
the
damp
.
She
herself
had
taken
up
the
making
of
a
toy
for
the
curate
’
s
children
,
and
was
not
going
to
enter
on
any
subject
too
precipitately
.
Dorothea
was
in
fact
thinking
that
it
was
desirable
for
Celia
to
know
of
the
momentous
change
in
Mr
.
Casaubon
’
s
position
since
he
had
last
been
in
the
house
:
it
did
not
seem
fair
to
leave
her
in
ignorance
of
what
would
necessarily
affect
her
attitude
towards
him
;
but
it
was
impossible
not
to
shrink
from
telling
her
.
Dorothea
accused
herself
of
some
meanness
in
this
timidity
:
it
was
always
odious
to
her
to
have
any
small
fears
or
contrivances
about
her
actions
,
but
at
this
moment
she
was
seeking
the
highest
aid
possible
that
she
might
not
dread
the
corrosiveness
of
Celia
’
s
pretty
carnally
minded
prose
.
Her
reverie
was
broken
,
and
the
difficulty
of
decision
banished
,
by
Celia
’
s
small
and
rather
guttural
voice
speaking
in
its
usual
tone
,
of
a
remark
aside
or
a
"
by
the
bye
.
"
"
Is
any
one
else
coming
to
dine
besides
Mr
.
Casaubon
?
"
"
Not
that
I
know
of
.
"
