Edmund Bertram:
Your keen adaptability to my brother's possible demise sends a chill through my heart. A chill. Happily planning parties with his money. You shush my father like a dog at your table, and then you attack Fanny for following her own, infallible guide concerning matters of the heart. All of this leads me to believe that the person I've been so apt to dwell on for many months has been a figure of my own imagination, not you, Miss Crawford. I do not know you, and I'm sorry to say, I have no wish to.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:18
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