Emma

There was a little blush, and then this answer,

“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every
dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing
older should make me indifferent about letters.”

“Indifferent! Oh! no—I never conceived you could become indifferent.
Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very
positive curse.”

“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of
friendship.”

“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly.
“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”

“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well—I am
very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I
can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than
to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which makes
the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every body
dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again; and
therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office, I
think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than
to-day.”

“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of