the continued appearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves
could have made it credible that they were not decided rivals.
If he were a little spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration,
who could wonder?

These were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers
were mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together,
equally without error, and without consciousness. Once she felt
that he was looking at herself, observing her altered features,
perhaps, trying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once
charmed him; and once she knew that he must have spoken of her;
she was hardly aware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was
sure of his having asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced?
The answer was, "Oh, no; never; she has quite given up dancing.
She had rather play. She is never tired of playing." Once, too,
he spoke to her. She had left the instrument on the dancing being over,
and he had sat down to try to make out an air which he wished
to give the Miss Musgroves an idea of. Unintentionally she returned
to that part of the room; he saw her, and, instantly rising,
said, with studied politeness--

"I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;" and though she immediately
drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced
to sit down again.

Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches.
His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.