The next moment he opened a conversation with her by saying:
"I have just experienced a most delicious sensation, Miss Emma Watson, the sight of you has exactly recalled the image of a cousin of mine, from whom unfortunate circumstances have so imperatively separated me. Poor girl—you have no idea how lovely she was."
"Indeed," was Emma's reply, quite willing to admit the truth of this assertion, and equally ready to let the subject rest; but he had no intention of the sort.
"It is charming to be reminded of an absent friend, delightful—exquisite—are you likely to make a long stay at Croydon, Miss Emma Watson?"
"It is uncertain," replied Emma.
"And you are actually living in the same house in which I spend the greater part of my weary days, and nothing but these envious walls conceals you from my sight. Is not that hard?"
"Really no," replied Emma, unable to control a smile at the absurdity of his manner, "I cannot say I think so at all."
"You don't—what a monstrous bore Mrs. Watson is—I am sure you will agree to that."
"She is my sister-in-law," said Emma.
"Yes, I know, but that's the very reason you should hate her—I detest mine."