Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin's prose.
"Such sweet lines!" continued Harriet--"these two last!--But
how shall I ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found
it out?--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what can we do about that?"
"Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening,
I dare say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense
or other will pass between us, and you shall not be committed.--Your
soft eyes shall chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me."
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