The storm
had burst at last, and she must face it.
"I asked her to marry me, and she told me to wait a year. I have waited
as long as I could, but I could not wait the whole year. I have prayed a
great deal, and I am bidden to speak."
Elizabeth made a gesture of impatience. She was a person of strong
common sense, and this mixture of religion and eroticism disgusted her.
She also know that the storm had burst, and that _she_ must face it.
"So I come to tell you that I love your daughter Beatrice, and want to
make her my wife. I have never loved anybody else, but I have loved her
for years; and I ask your consent."
"Very flattering, very flattering, I am sure, especially in these hard
times," said Mr. Granger apologetically, shaking his thin hair down over
his forehead, and then rumpling it up again. "But you see, Mr. Davies,
you don't want to marry me" (here Beatrice smiled faintly)--"you want to
marry my daughter, so you had better ask her direct--at least I suppose
so."
Elizabeth made a movement as though to speak, then changed her mind and
listened.
"Beatrice," said Owen Davies, "you hear.
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