Davies," said Beatrice, breaking the
painful silence. "I have come."
"Yes," he answered; "I asked you to come because I wanted to speak to
you."
"Yes?" said Beatrice, looking up from her occupation of digging little
holes in the sand with the point of her parasol. Her face was calm
enough, but her heart beat fast beneath her breast.
"I want to ask you," he said, speaking slowly and thickly, "if you will
be my wife?"
Beatrice opened her lips to speak, then, seeing that he had only paused
because his inward emotion checked his words, shut them again, and went
on digging little holes. She wished to rely on the whole case, as a
lawyer would say.
"I want to ask you," he repeated, "to be my wife. I have wished to do so
for some years, but I have never been able to bring myself to it. It is
a great step to take, and my happiness depends on it. Do not answer me
yet," he went on, his words gathering force as he spoke. "Listen to what
I have to tell you. I have been a lonely man all my life. At sea I was
lonely, and since I have come into this fortune I have been lonelier
still.
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