'Stop, William!' I cried as he retreated to the door, 'why are you so
obtuse? Don't you understand how difficult you are making everything
for me--as well as for yourself! What is all this talk of sacrifice
and your unworthiness. I don't think you are unworthy. I--I--love
you--isn't it enough when I say that?'
[Illustration: 'Stop, William!' Marion cried.]
Involuntarily I stretched out my hands to him as I spoke. He has told
me since that the sight of me standing there bathed in the light of the
rose-shaded lamp, my eyes and lips unusually soft and tender (so he
says), with my arms held out to him, forms a picture that he will never
forget. He looked at me for a moment in absolute silence, and appeared
to be thinking deeply. When at last he spoke he made an astonishing
remark. 'What does it matter about me, after all?' he murmured slowly,
as if speaking to himself. 'Good God, little woman, I was just about
to act the part of a consummate cad and coward!'
He then strode up to me and continued in a serious tone: 'If you care
enough for me to take me with all my faults, I shall be proud to be
your husband.'
After which he bent and kissed me very gravely on the forehead, and
surprised me by walking out of the room. It was the most remarkable
proposal. But then, in every way, my dear William is a most remarkable
man.
CHAPTER XIX
There was something distinctly puzzling about Marion's engagement to
William.
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