Austen Said:

“Not they indeed,”

“for, as we turned into Broad Street, I saw them — does he not drive a phaeton with bright chestnuts?”

“Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are talking of the man you danced with last night, are not you?”

“Well, I saw him at that moment turn up the Lansdown Road, driving a smart-looking girl.”

“Did upon my soul; knew him again directly, and he seemed to have got some very pretty cattle too.”

“And well they might, for I never saw so much dirt in my life. Walk! You could no more walk than you could fly! It has not been so dirty the whole winter; it is ankle-deep everywhere.”

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner.”

“Make yourself easy, there is no danger of that, for I heard

Tilney hallooing

to a man who was just passing by on horseback,

that

they were going as far as Wick Rocks.”

“Who is that girl who looked at you so hard as she went by?”

“On the right-hand pavement — she must be almost out of sight now.”

he had never seen two men so much alike in his life,

what was the matter.

“We had better go back, Thorpe; it is too late to go on today; your sister thinks so as well as I. We have been exactly an hour coming from Pulteney Street, very little more than seven miles; and, I suppose, we have at least eight more to go. It will never do. We set out a great deal too late. We had much better put it off till another day, and turn round.”

“It is all one to me,”

“If your brother had not got such a d — beast to drive,”

“we might have done it very well. My horse would have trotted to Clifton within the hour, if left to himself, and I have almost broke my arm with pulling him in to that cursed broken-winded jade’s pace. Morland is a fool for not keeping a horse and gig of his own.”

“And why cannot he afford it?”

“And whose fault is that?”

a gentleman and lady had called and inquired for her a few minutes after her setting off;

when he told them she was gone out with Mr. Thorpe, the lady had asked whether any message had been left for her; and on his saying no, had felt for a card, but said she had none about her, and went away.

believed Miss Tilney to be at home, but was not quite certain. Would she be pleased to send up her name?

he had been mistaken, for that Miss Tilney was walked out.

“We were much obliged to you at any rate for wishing us a pleasant walk after our passing you in Argyle Street: you were so kind as to look back on purpose.”

“I was not within at the time; but I heard of it from Eleanor, and she has been wishing ever since to see you, to explain the reason of such incivility; but perhaps I can do it as well. It was nothing more than that my father — they were just preparing to walk out, and he being hurried for time, and not caring to have it put off — made a point of her being denied. That was all, I do assure you. She was very much vexed, and meant to make her apology as soon as possible.”

“Me! I take offence!”

“I angry! I could have no right.”

make room for him,

knew nothing about it; but his father, like every military man, had a very large acquaintance.

whether she had seen him talking with General Tilney:

“He is a fine old fellow, upon my soul! Stout, active — looks as young as his son. I have a great regard for him, I assure you: a gentleman-like, good sort of fellow as ever lived.”

“Know him! There are few people much about town that I do not know. I have met him forever at the Bedford; and I knew his face again today the moment he came into the billiard-room. One of the best players we have, by the by; and we had a little touch together, though I was almost afraid of him at first: the odds were five to four against me; and, if I had not made one of the cleanest strokes that perhaps ever was made in this world — I took his ball exactly — but I could not make you understand it without a table; however, I did beat him. A very fine fellow; as rich as a Jew. I should like to dine with him; I dare say he gives famous dinners. But what do you think we have been talking of? You. Yes, by heavens! And

the general thinks

you the finest girl in Bath.”

“And what do you think I said?”

“well done, general, said I; I am quite of your mind.”

“Nay, Catherine. I think you cannot stand out any longer now. The sacrifice is not much; and to oblige such a friend — I shall think you quite unkind, if you still refuse.”

“No, no, no!”

“that could not be, for Thorpe did not know that he might not go to town on Tuesday.”

“Catherine, you must go,”

“Thank ye,”

“but I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if you do not go, d — me if I do. I only go for the sake of driving you.”

“I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine,”

“you were not used to be so hard to persuade; you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”

“Well, I have settled the matter, and now we may all go tomorrow with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss Tilney, and made your excuses.”

“I have, upon my soul. Left her this moment. Told her you had sent me to say that, having just recollected a prior engagement of going to Clifton with us tomorrow, you could not have the pleasure of walking with her till Tuesday.

She said