Emma

in higher style her own very superior performance. She was, besides,
which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting
at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed
determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously
reserved.

If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved
on the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed
bent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character, or her own
value for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It
was all general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or
distinguished. It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown
away. Emma saw its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There
probably _was_ something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr.
Dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing one friend for the other,
or been fixed only to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve
thousand pounds.

The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill
had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a
little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma