“No, sir, it has given me nothing but pleasure; a run these cold mornings is the thing I like best.”
“Sir, you are extremely good,” said Mr Harrel, “but I had not the least intention of your taking such a walk upon my account.”
He then begged him to be seated, to rest himself, and to take some refreshment; which civilities he received without scruple.
“But, Miss Beverley,” said Mr Harrel, turning suddenly to Cecilia, “you don't tell me what you think of my friend?”
“What friend, sir?”
“Why, Sir Robert Floyer; I observed he never quitted you a moment while he stayed at Mrs Mears.”
“His stay, however, was too short,” said Cecilia, “to allow me to form a fair opinion of him.”
“But perhaps,” cried Morrice, “it was long enough to allow you to form a foul one.”
Cecilia could not forbear laughing to hear the truth thus accidentally blundered out; but Mr Harrel, looking very little pleased, said, “Surely you can find no fault with him? he is one of the most fashionable men I know.”
“My finding fault with him then,” said Cecilia, “will only farther prove what I believe is already pretty evident, that I am yet a novice in the art of admiration.”