“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out anything like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company⁠—the great man⁠—the practised politician, who is to read everybody’s character, and make everybody’s talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could not endure such a puppy when it came to the point.”

“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn everything to evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no chance of agreeing till he is really here.”

“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.”