"How then," asked her sister, "would you account
for his behaviour?"
"I would suppose him,--Oh, how gladly would I suppose him,
only fickle, very, very fickle."
Elinor said no more. She was debating within herself
on the eligibility of beginning her story directly,
or postponing it till Marianne were in stronger health;--
and they crept on for a few minutes in silence.