My grandfather, grandmother, uncles, and aunts all declared that she was a heartless, deceitful woman; all disliked her manners, her opinions, and even the expression of her face--all, with the exception of my father's youngest brother, George.
George was the unlucky member of our family.

The rest were all clever; he was slow in capacity.

The rest were all remarkably handsome; he was the sort of man that no woman ever looks at twice.

The rest succeeded in life; he failed.

His profession was the same as my father's, but he never got on when he started in practice for himself.