At that same end of the room hung a full-length portrait of a gentleman.

It was natural that Courthope should walk towards it, trying to become acquainted with some link in the train of circumstances which had raised this enchanted palace in the wilderness; he had not followed to hear, but he overheard.
'Eliz, it's a _real_ young man!' 'No! you are only making up, and' (here a touch of querulousness) 'I've often told you that I don't like make-ups that one wants too much to be true.

I'll only have the Austens and Sir Charles and Evelina and----' 'Eliz! He's _not_ a make-up; the fairies have sent him to our party.
Isn't it just fairilly entrancing?
He has a curly moustache and a nice nose.

He's English, like father.

He says "cawn't," and "shawn't," and "heah," and "theyah,"-- genuine, no affectation.