“My picture!—But he has left my picture in Bond-street.”
“Has he so!—Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession. How cheerful, how
will do each other any good! This will certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr. Knightley.”
“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.”
“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if