"Yes, I know," she said, almost in a whisper.
"And may I hope? To say that I love you dearly seems to be saying what must be a matter of course."
"I do not see that at all," she replied with spirit.
"I do love you very dearly. If I may be allowed to think that you will be my wife, I shall be the happiest man in England. I know how great is the honour which I seek, how immense in every way is the gift which I ask you to give me. Can you love me?"
"No," she said, again dropping her voice to a whisper.
"Is that all the answer, Miss Hotspur?"
"What should I say? How ought I to answer you? If I could say it without seeming to be unkind, indeed, indeed, I would do so."
"Perhaps I have been abrupt."
"It is not that. When you ask me—to—to—love you, of course I know what you mean. Should I not speak the truth at once?"
"Must this be for always?"