Mending pelisse sleeves till seven and three quarters.
All had gone on well – Miss W- had consulted me and made me stay – and talked and treated me exactly as if her mind was in reality made up to take me – and I felt almost sure and no two people could get on more lovingly and well (her cousin came this morning and I was most tender over her). Till just at ten, I joked about our being just as good friends if she was settled at Cliff Hill and I at Shibden – then, said she, we must give up all this (meaning our fondling) – and could you, said I, give me up easily? – this led to – her mind was not made up. She did not think she should have suffered so much – that there would have been so much difficulty – if she was really married, it would be different, would be easier. Oh, oh, thought I to myself, I see how it is – my difficulty in getting to her on Monday night and my being able to do so little was not what she expected or relished. I combatted her idea that, but for her word to the contrary, I should have believed she could no longer pretend to the title of old maid – she took all very well – denied, but yet in such sort as left me almost doubtful? She said she did not deny that she had been kissed. In fact, it seemed after all that she was doubtful of me as ever and I am to kick my heels after and dance attendance till the third of April – hope for nothing. I always fancy she and Catharine Rawson have played tricks together – and she hesitates to take me, who cannot perhaps do much better. I had even read her the letter I had wrote last night to M-; she had read me one from her cousin, Miss Atkinson – I had had my hand at her queer – spite of her cousin – and we had gone on just like a married pair, I telling her all sorts of things.
I came home musing of all this and annoyed and thinking I had best care little about her.