With all his other visitors, Mr.Wilkins sat long--yes, and yearly longer; with Mr.Ness, because they became interested in each other's conversation; with some of the others, because the wine was good, and the host hated to spare it.
Mr.Corbet used to leave his tutor and Mr.Wilkins and saunter into the library.

There sat Ellinor and Miss Monro, each busy with their embroidery.

He would bring a stool to Ellinor's side, question and tease her, interest her, and they would become entirely absorbed in each other, Miss Monro's sense of propriety being entirely set at rest by the consideration that Mr.Wilkins must know what he was about in allowing a young man to become thus intimate with his daughter, who, after all, was but a child.
Mr.Corbet had lately fallen into the habit of walking up to Ford Bank for _The Times_ every day, near twelve o'clock, and lounging about in the garden until one; not exactly with either Ellinor or Miss Monro, but certainly far more at the beck and call of the one than of the other.
Miss Monro used to think he would have been glad to stay and lunch at their early dinner, but she never gave the invitation, and he could not well stay without her expressed sanction.

He told Ellinor all about his mother and sisters, and their ways of going on, and spoke of them and of his father as of people she was one day certain to know, and to know intimately; and she did not question or doubt this view of things; she simply acquiesced.
He had some discussion with himself as to whether he should speak to her, and so secure her promise to be his before returning to Cambridge or not.
He did not like the formality of an application to Mr.Wilkins, which would, after all, have been the proper and straightforward course to pursue with a girl of her age--she was barely sixteen.

Not that he anticipated any difficulty on Mr.Wilkins's part; his approval of the intimacy which at their respective ages was pretty sure to lead to an attachment, was made as evident as could be by actions without words.