"In marriage."
She paused. She, so penetrative of him when he opposed her, was hoodwinked when he softened her feelings: for the heart, though the clearest, is not the most constant instructor of the head; the heart, unlike the often obtuser head, works for itself and not for the commonwealth.
"You are so kind . . . I would do much . . ." she said.
"Would you accept him—marry him? He is poor."
"I am not ambitious of wealth."
"Would you marry him?"
"Marriage is not in my thoughts."
"But could you marry him?"
Willoughby expected no. In his expectation of it he hung inflated.
She said these words: "I could engage to marry no one else." His amazement breathed without a syllable.