He was a widower of long standing.

His daughter Eliza, who kept his house, sat beside him.

She resembled her father closely, and herself looked like an old person anywhere but beside him.

There the juvenility of comparison was hers.
Solomon Wells, during the singing, before he offered prayer, had cast sundry perplexed glances at a group of strangers on his right, and then at his list.

He was quite sure that they were not mentioned thereon.