And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham.
Je crois que j’en serais devenue folle… Pendant que je m’habillais, ma tante ne cessait de parler et de discourir, comme si elle débitait un sermon ; mais je n’entendais pas un mot sur dix, car vous supposez bien que je ne pensais qu’a mon cher Wickham.