"Indeed—I doubt whether I am to take that as a compliment or the reverse," replied Emma smiling a little.
"I never pay compliments," said he, "but if you want to know why I think so, learn that I can see you mind being talked about, dislike gossip and scandal, and have no taste for romping or noise: therefore you are unfitted for a resident in a country town!"
"You are not complimentary to-night, Mr. Morgan; what has put you out of humour with your fellow towns-women?"
"I assure you I feel most amiably disposed towards them all, especially those who by dancing to-night have left me at liberty to converse with you. They are all charming chatterers, and delightful dancers, and equally exquisite, enlightened, eloquent and endearing."
"Your compliments are rather equivocal, Mr. Morgan, I do not know that I should like such problematic praises."
"You—you need not be afraid, I should never think of applying such terms to you—did I not begin with observing that you were not brought up in a country town."
"There are some people I have observed," said Emma thoughtfully, "who always hold the society in which they happen to move very cheap, because they have an unfortunate power of vision which enables them alone to see the weak, the ridiculous, the faulty side of things."
"Thank you—do not find fault with my compliments after that speech—I never made one more severe."
"I beg your pardon," replied she colouring deeply. "Perhaps it did sound a little harsh."
"Yes, I am deeply indebted to you for your good opinion—you probably suppose me incapable of appreciating the beautiful and excellent when I meet it, because I am alive to the follies, the littleness, and the absurdities of those amongst whom I am forced to mix—some day I trust you will judge me better."