On the ground against a pillar, crouched a young and beautiful woman, her dress and general aspect indicating the last degree of vagrant wretchedness; worn out, she had fallen asleep in a most graceful attitude, and the rays of a winter sunset smote upon her pallid countenance.

Before her stood the village clergyman, who had evidently just entered, and found her here; his white head was bent in the wonted attitude of clerical benevolence; in his face blended a gentle wonder and a compassionate tenderness.
"If that had been hung at Burlington House, Warburton, it would have been the picture of the year." "I think it very likely." "Yes, I know what you mean, you sarcastic old ruffian.

But there's another point of view.

Is the drawing good or not?
Is the colour good or not?
Of course you know nothing about it, but I tell you, for your information, I think it's a confoundedly clever bit of work.

There remains the subject, and where's the harm in it?
The incident's quite possible.