"You think me prejudiced, no doubt."
"I have no wish to combat your prejudice, or persuade you into liking him against your will."
A pause ensued, when Emma suddenly starting from her reverie, exclaimed,
"It is almost dusk—we must really return home."
"True, we can come again another day; I am sure you may come whenever you feel disposed—I shall be most happy to escort you."
At this moment the door was thrown back, and Lord Osborne himself appeared. After paying his compliments, he paused a moment, and then observed,
"You must have a precious strong taste for pictures, Miss Watson, to like to remain in the gallery even when it is too dark to see. I suppose breathing the same air is pleasant to those who value the art."
"We have stayed longer than we intended, my lord," said Emma; "and I really feel much obliged to your sister for allowing me such a pleasure; but we expected her to join us."
"It's a mighty fine thing to have such a lot of fine pictures, with all the fine names tacked on to them. One or two I really like myself—there's one of some horses, by somebody, excellent—and a Dutch painting of dead game, which is so like you would really think them all alive. Did you notice it?"
"Not particularly—I do not care much for still life."