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Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in

watching Mr. Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in read-

ing her own; and she was perpetually either making some

inquiry, or looking at his page. She could not win him, how-

ever, to any conversation; he merely answered her question

and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to

be amused with her own book, which she had only chosen

because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great

yawn and said, 'How pleasant it is to spend an evening in

this way! I declare, after all, there is no enjoyment like

reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of

a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miser-

able if I have not an excellent library!'

 

No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw

aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of

some amusement; when, hearing her brother mentioning a

ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and

said,--

 

'By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating

a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you

determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party;

I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom

a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.'

 

'If you mean Darcy,' cried her brother, 'he may go to bed,

if he chooses, before it begins; but as for the ball, it is quite

a settled thing, and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup

enough I shall send round my cards.'

 

'I should like balls infinitely better,' she replied, 'if they

were carried on in a different manner; but there is something

insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting.

It would surely be much more rational if conversation in-

stead of dancing made the order of the day.'

 

'Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I daresay; but it

would not be near so much like a ball.'

 

Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards got up

and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she

walked well; but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still

inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings she

resolved on one effort more; and, turning to Elizabeth,

said,--

 

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