“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I must draw back from your great fire.”
“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not catch cold.”
“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.”
“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.”
“By the by—I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you all behave? Who cried most?”
“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ’Tis a sad business.”
“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say ‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence!—At any rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two.”
“Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I know—and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.”
“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with a sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.”
“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean you , or suppose Mr. Knightley to mean you . What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know—in a joke—it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.”