“Oh! no, no”⁠—cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could⁠—“Upon no account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt of just now. Let me hear anything rather than what you are all thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be afraid of knowing.”

“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which I should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, perhaps, as the Chaperon of the party⁠— I never was in any circle⁠—exploring parties⁠—young ladies⁠—married women⁠—”

Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply,