Emma

I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by my
failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion. I
shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’—If he would say so to her at
once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no
opposition made to his going.”

“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his
coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to
use!—Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you
have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite
to your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to
the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for
him!—Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as
loud as he could!—How can you imagine such conduct practicable?”

“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it.
He would feel himself in the right; and the declaration—made, of
course, as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner—would do
him more good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the
people he depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients