"anne," cried mary, still at her window, "there is mrs. clay, i am sure, standing under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her. i saw them turn the corner from bath street just now. they seemed deep in talk. who is it? come, and tell me. good heavens! i recollect. it is mr. elliot himself." "no," cried anne, quickly, "it cannot be mr. elliot, i assure you. he was to leave bath at nine this morning, and does not come back till to-morrow." as she spoke, she felt that captain wentworth was looking at her, the consciousness of which vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret that she had said so much, simple as it was. mary, resenting that she should be supposed not to know her own cousin, began talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting still more positively that it was mr. elliot, calling again upon anne to come and look for herself, but anne did not mean to stir, and tried to be cool and unconcerned. her distress returned, however, on perceiving smiles and intelligent glances pass between two or three of the lady visitors, as if they believed themselves quite in the secret. it was evident that the report concerning her had spread, and a short pause succeeded, which seemed to ensure that it would now spread farther. "do come, anne" cried mary, "come and look yourself. you will be too late if you do not make haste. they are parting; they are shaking hands. he is turning away. not know mr. elliot, indeed! you seem to have forgot all about lyme." to pacify mary, and perhaps screen her own embarrassment, anne did move quietly to the window. she was just in time to ascertain that it really was mr. elliot, which she had never believed, before he disappeared on one side, as mrs. clay walked quickly off on the other; and checking the surprise which she could not but feel at such an appearance of friendly conference between two persons of totally opposite interest, she calmly said, "yes, it is mr. elliot, certainly. he has changed his hour of going, i suppose, that is all, or i may be mistaken, i might not attend;" and walked back to her chair, recomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself well. {from ‘persuasion’, by jane austen.}