“I am sure I think it a very good one.”
“Do you? That’s honest, by heavens! I am glad you are no enemy to matrimony, however. Did you ever hear the old song, ‘Going to One Wedding Brings on Another?’ I say, you will come to Belle’s wedding, I hope.”
“Yes; I have promised your sister to be with her, if possible.”
“And then you know”—twisting himself about and forcing a foolish laugh—“I say, then you know, we may try the truth of this same old song.”
“May we? But I never sing. Well, I wish you a good journey. I dine with Miss Tilney to-day, and must now be going home.”
“Nay, but there is no such confounded hurry. Who knows when we may be together again? Not but that I shall be down again by the end of a fortnight, and a devilish long fortnight it will appear to me.”
“Then why do you stay away so long?” replied Catherine—finding that he waited for an answer.
“That is kind of you, however—kind and good-natured. I shall not forget it in a hurry. But you have more good nature and all that, than anybody living, I believe. A monstrous deal of good nature, and it is not only good nature, but you have so much, so much of everything; and then you have such—upon my soul, I do not know anybody like you.”
“Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better. Good morning to you.”
“But I say, Miss Morland, I shall come and pay my respects at Fullerton before it is long, if not disagreeable.”