Now she was angry. Some resentment did arise at a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was again a want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck and disgusted her. Here was again a something of the same Mr. Crawford whom she had so reprobated before. How evidently was there a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned-And, alas! how always known no principle to supply as a duty what the heart was deficient in. Had her own affections been as free-as perhaps they ought to have been-he never could have engaged them.
So thought Fanny, in good truth and sober sadness, as she sat musing over that too great indulgence and luxury of a fire upstairs: wondering at the past and present; wondering at what was yet to come, and in a nervous agitation which made nothing clear to her but the persuasion of her being never under any circumstances able to love Mr. Crawford, and the felicity of having a fire to sit over and think of it.

Now she was angry. Some resentment did arise at a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous. Here was again the want of delicacy and regard for others which had formerly so struck her; a gross want of feeling and humanity where his own pleasure was concerned. Had her own affections been free, he never could have engaged them.
So thought Fanny, in sober sadness, as she sat musing over her luxury of a fire upstairs: wondering at what was yet to come, and with nothing clear but the certainty of her being never able to love Mr. Crawford.
