"And what is your voice?"
"My voice is this. I told you last night that I loved you. This morning I ask you to be my wife."
"It is a very clear voice," she said,—almost in a whisper; but in a tone so serious that it startled him.
"It ought to be clear," he said doggedly.
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that if I liked you well last night I don't like you better now?"
"But do you—like me?"
"That is just the thing I am going to say nothing about."
"Isabel!"
"Just the one thing I will not allude to. Now you must listen to me."
"Certainly."