Эмма. Уровень 3 / Emma

Weston is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he deserves a good wife; – and you would not have made Miss Taylor live with us for ever, when she might have a house of her own?”

“A house of her own! – But where is the advantage of a house of her own? Our house is three times as large.”

“We shall be going to see them often, and they will be coming to see us! – We shall be always meeting! We must begin; we must go and pay wedding visit very soon.”

“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls[10 - Randalls – Рэндалс] is such a distance.

I could not walk half so far.”

“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage, to be sure.”

Emma hoped backgammon[11 - Backgammon – триктрак (игра)] would keep her father distracted for an evening. The backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary.

Mr. Knightley[12 - Knightley – Найтли], a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband.

He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and at this time more welcome than usual, as he was coming directly from their relatives in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after some days' absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were well there. It animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. When the inquiry about “poor Isabella” was over, Mr. Woodhouse decided to change the “poor” subject,

“Ah! poor Miss Taylor!”

“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say 'poor Miss Taylor.' I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence! – At any rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two.”

“Especially when one of those two is such a capricious, troublesome creature!” said Emma playfully.

“That is what you have in your head, I know-and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.”

“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with a sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very capricious and troublesome.”

“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean you, or suppose Mr. Knightley to mean you. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only myself. Mr.