"I ... I...."
"What I'm trying to get around to saying.... Look. Sometimes these first marriages just go right on lasting. I mean, if two people, they're alike, they just stay on married."
She felt fire in her cheeks.
"Margy, will you marry me?"
Anticipation had not blunted the effect, and maturity shone in his eyes. Her face was white; blood fled from her lips.
"Clyde...."
"We're a lot alike, Margy," he said intently. "We could make it last. We've got a lot in common. For us it wouldn't be just a first marriage. It would be the marriage, the one to last always. And we both need to get married. To help us grow up."
"I ... I...."
"Listen, Margy. I always thought ... I mean, well, I've always thought you like me. A lot, I mean. I've always thought that—well—that you were in love with me, sort of."
It felt like her chest was being crushed by emotions; and she could see him spinning farther away from her. And she could not let him go. She could not lose him like this, just let him walk away. It wasn't fair. "I ... I guess I am."