“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger preferred than one’s very particular friend⁠—with a stranger it might not recur again⁠—but the misery of having a very particular friend always at hand, to do everything better than one does oneself!⁠—Poor Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.”

“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she really did not seem to feel it.”

“So much the better⁠—or so much the worse:⁠—I do not know which. But be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her⁠—quickness of friendship, or dullness of feeling⁠—there was one person, I think, who must have felt it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous distinction.”

“As to that⁠—I do not⁠—”