" As for the little banshees, when they returned home they, too, were satisfied.
“I wouldn’t mind marrying him,” said the eldest, Hope.
“I wouldn’t either,” said Faith.
“Nor me,” said Charity. “I w-wouldn’t…mind, too.”
Then they sighed. “Mother will tell us which one it’s going to be,” said Hope. “As long as it’s not Prudence.”
Prudence was still in nappies and far too small to be in the running, but she had curls and a dimple and her sisters hated her.
As for Clovis, he lay freshly bathed in a linen nightshirt between cool and spotless sheets. No mosquito netting, no flypaper, no beetles…yes, he would definitely hold out for at least a week. He had promised Finn and he would do it.
But Sir Aubrey was not yet in bed. He had limped up to the Picture Gallery at the top of the house and stood for a long time looking at the portrait of Alwin Taverner in his naval uniform.
Really, the likeness was extraordinary! The nose, the eyes, the mouth, the way his hair fell over his forehead--all of it was the same as in the boy who had come today.
It happened sometimes that a likeness skipped a few generations and then showed up stronger than ever, thought Sir Aubrey. That was the amazing thing about The Blood. "

― Eva Ibbotson , Journey to the River Sea