I Assure You. I Have No Notion

Vanity Was The Beginning And The End Of Sir Walter Elliot's Character; Vanity Of Person And Of Situation. He Had Been Remarkably Handsome In His Youth; And, At Fifty-four, Was Still A Very Fine Man. Few Women Could Think More Of Their Personal Appearance Than He Did, Nor Could The Valet Of Any New Made Lord Be More Delighted With The Place He Held In Society. He Considered The Blessing Of Beauty As Inferior Only To The Blessing Of A Baronetcy; And The Sir Walter Elliott, Who United These Gifts, Was The Constant Object Of His Warmest Respect And Devotion.

There Seemed A Gulf Impassable Between Them.

What Wild Imaginations One Forms Where Dear Self Is Concerned! How Sure To Be Mistaken!

Now I Must Give One Smirk And Then We May Be Rational Again

They Gave Themselves Up Wholly To Their Sorrow, Seeking Increase Of Wretchedness In Every Reflection That Could Afford It, And Resolved Against Ever Admitting Consolation In Future.