This at any rate could not but be satisfactory to him. "I like them both," he said; "but I love Greg dearly. He and I have lived together like brothers for years, whereas it is only quite lately that I have known the other."
"It is only lately that I have known either;—but they seem to me to be so different. Is not that a wonderfully beautiful picture, Mr. Newton? Can't, you almost fancy yourself sitting down and throwing stones into the river, or dabbling your feet in it?"
"It is very pretty," said he, not caring a penny for the picture.
"Have you any river at Beamingham?"
"There's a muddy little brook that you could almost jump over. You wouldn't want to dabble in that."
"Has it got a name?"
"I think they call it the Wissey. It's not at all a river to be proud of,—except in the way of eels and water-rats."
"Is there nothing to be proud of at Beamingham?"
"There's the church tower;—that's all."
"A church tower is something;—but I meant as to Beamingham Hall."