“Emma Cooke!—No; it cannot be my friend Emma Cooke—for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid.”
“This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife.”
“May be so—I am sure I’ll never go to see her—Pray, my dear, how came you to see so much of her?”
“I have seen very little of her, my dear: I only saw her two or three times before she was married.”
“Then, my dear, how could you decide that she is cut out for a good wife?—I am sure you could not judge of her by seeing her only two or three times, and before she was married.”
“Indeed, my love, that is a very just observation.”
“I understand that compliment perfectly, and thank you for it, my dear.—I must own I can bear any thing better than irony.”
“Irony! my dear; I was perfectly in earnest.”
“Yes, yes; in earnest—so I perceive—I may naturally be dull of apprehension, but my feelings are quick enough: I comprehend you too well. Yes—it is impossible to judge of a woman before marriage, or to guess what sort of a wife she will make. I presume you speak from experience; you have been disappointed yourself, and repent your choice.”
“My dear, what did I say that was like this? Upon my word I meant no such thing; I really was not thinking of you in the least.”