"Yes, I know, but that's the very reason you should hate her—I detest mine."
"And you consider that an infallible rule, of course, since you suggest it to me."
"I am certain," said the young man, "that our sympathies are strong: there is something in the turn of your head, the sparkle of your eye, the formation of your upper lip, that betokens decided participation in the feelings which corruscate, burn, and almost consume your humble servant."
"What a fine day it has been," observed Emma, purposely chosing the most common-place subject in reply to his rhapsody.
He looked astonished and perplexed, then said slowly:
"I fear after all we are not kindred souls—do you love music?"
"Pretty well," replied Emma, determined to keep down to the most common-place level in her conversation.
He cast up his eyes, and turned away for a moment, throwing himself back in his chair, and elevating his chin in the air, whilst he carefully combed his hair with his fingers. Presently, however, he returned again to the attack.
"I suspect you are funny."
"I beg your pardon," said Emma, looking perplexed in her turn.