to _me_. They will have nothing else to do.” Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. “He is as fine a fellow,” said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of the house, “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law.” The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. “I often think,” said she, “that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.” “This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter,” said Elizabeth. “It must make you better satisfied that your other four are single.” “It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married, but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon.” But the spiritless condit