I Leave It To Be Settled, By

My Sore Throats Are Always Worse Than Anyone's.

[mrs. Allen Was] Never Satisfied With The Day Unless She Spent The Chief Of It By The Side Of Mrs. Thorpe, In What They Called Conversation, But In Which There Was Scarcely Ever Any Exchange Of Opinion, And Not Often Any Resemblance Of Subject, For Mrs. Thorpe Talked Chiefly Of Her Children, And Mrs. Allen Of Her Gowns.

You Were Disgusted With The Women Who Were Always Speaking And Looking, And Thinking For Your Approbation Alone. I Roused, And Interested You, Because I Was So Unlike Them.

Catherine [...] Enjoyed Her Usual Happiness With Henry Tilney, Listening With Sparkling Eyes To Everything He Said; And, In Finding Him Irresistible, Becoming So Herself.

There, He Had Seen Every Thing To Exalt In His Estimation The Woman He Had Lost, And There Begun To Deplore The Pride, The Folly, The Madness Of Resentment, Which Had Kept Him From Trying To Regain Her When Thrown In His Way.