"I entreat you to stay."
"We hope she is."
He rose up, and walked across the room.
"Had I known as much half an hour ago—But since I am here,"—speaking with a forced vivacity as he returned to his seat,—"what does it signify?—For once, Miss Dashwood—it will be the last time, perhaps—let us be cheerful together. I am in a fine mood for gaiety. Tell me honestly,"—a deeper glow overspreading his cheeks, "do you think me most a knave or a fool?"
Elinor looked at him with greater astonishment than ever. She began to think that he must be in liquor;—the strangeness of such a visit, and of such manners, seemed no otherwise intelligible; and with this impression she immediately rose, saying—
"Mr. Willoughby, I advise you at present to return to Combe—I am not at leisure to remain with you longer. Whatever your business may be with me, it will be better recollected and explained to-morrow."
"I understand you," he replied, with an expressive smile, and a voice perfectly calm; "yes, I am very drunk. A pint of porter with my cold beef at Marlborough was enough to over-set me."
"At Marlborough!"—cried Elinor, more and more at a loss to understand what he would be at.