You know all that would be felt on the occasion." Fanny thanked him, but tried to laugh it off.
"I am perfectly serious," he replied, "as you perfectly know.

And I hope you will not be cruelly concealing any tendency to indisposition.
Indeed, you shall _not_; it shall not be in your power; for so long only as you positively say, in every letter to Mary, 'I am well,' and I know you cannot speak or write a falsehood, so long only shall you be considered as well." Fanny thanked him again, but was affected and distressed to a degree that made it impossible for her to say much, or even to be certain of what she ought to say.

This was towards the close of their walk.

He attended them to the last, and left them only at the door of their own house, when he knew them to be going to dinner, and therefore pretended to be waited for elsewhere.
"I wish you were not so tired," said he, still detaining Fanny after all the others were in the house--"I wish I left you in stronger health.

Is there anything I can do for you in town?
I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon.