“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.⁠—Talking about spruce-beer.⁠—Oh! yes⁠— Mr. Knightley and I both saying we liked it, and Mr. Elton’s seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I perfectly remember it.⁠—Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was not he? I have an idea he was standing just here.”

“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.⁠—It is very odd, but I cannot recollect.⁠— Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I am now.”⁠—

“Well, go on.”

“Oh! that’s all. I have nothing more to show you, or to say⁠—except that I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to see me do it.”