“Yes?”
“I hope I am not going to take you by surprise, Mrs. Randolph,” he went on. “You are so bright and so quick that you must have seen that I admired you.”
He waited for her response, and she was forced to say something. Even though the man was trying to marry her for the money he thought she had, he was at least exhibiting a most becoming ardor.
“Well,” she declared, “I didn’t suppose you were very much bored in my society.”
“I have never before seen a woman in whose society I have taken so much pleasure,” he answered. "You cannot imagine how great a joy it has been for me to know you, and how much I have enjoyed the privilege of coming to see you here in your charming home.”
She glanced at the commonplace parlor of the hotel she hated, but she said nothing.
“You spoke just now of loneliness,” he continued. “I hope you don’t know what that really is—at least that you don’t know it as I know it. But if you have felt it at all, I shall have the less hesitation in asking if you—if you are willing to consider what it would mean to me if you could put an end to my loneliness.”
“Mr. Stone!” she said, as she dropped her eyes.
“It is not your beauty alone that has drawn me to you,” he urged, “not your charm, although I have felt that from the first day I met you. No; it is more than that, I think—it is your goodness, your gentleness, your kindness, your womanliness. I don’t know how to find words for what I want to say, but you must know what I mean. I mean that I love you, and I beg you to be my wife.”
“This is very sudden, Mr. Stone,” she replied.