“What are you going to do, Emma?”
“Why, return it to him, of course,” she replied, indignantly, “and insist upon having my own again.”
“Oh, don’t write to him, Emma,” said Alice; “pray don’t. Depend upon it, he will take advantage of it if you do.”
“What shall I do, then?” said Emma, despairingly.
“He will probably be here this evening,” replied Alice, “and if you take my advice, you will give it back to him before Mr. Dashwood, and ask for your own at the same time. He’s only trying now to annoy you, because he sees that you are afraid of Mr. Dashwood’s knowing the truth.”
“Well, so I am,” replied Emma. “That’s just the thing. If it was not for Mr. Dashwood, there would be no difficulty about it.”
“Ah, Emma, if you would——”
“But I wont, Alice,” said Emma, interrupting her impatiently. “I know what you are going to say—but I wont—I can’t tell Mr. Dashwood. If you can suggest nothing better than that, leave me to take my own way.”
“Don’t write, then,” said Alice, imploringly.
“Why, Alice, what else can I do!” replied Emma, much vexed. “You make objections to every thing, and yet don’t suggest anything better.” And so she wrote a few rapid lines, enclosing the ring, and dispatched a servant with it to Mr. Cooper’s. He was out. The note was left; and she received no answer that day.