She Is Loveliness Itself.

I Encourage Him To Be In His Garden As Often As Possible. Then He Has To Walk To Rosings Nearly Every Day. ... I Admit I Encourage Him In That Also.

[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.

This Was A Lucky Recollection -- It Saved Her From Something Like Regret.

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.

The Less Said The Better.