"Are you? Miss Meadowsweet, I want to say something. Look at me, will you look at me?"
"Of course I will. I expected you to say something when you called this morning. You had some sort of trouble you wanted to confide in me. What is the matter?"
"I don't feel now as if I had any trouble to confide in you. I can only say one thing."
Beatrice began to wish that her mother had not left the drawing-room. She moved forward as if to step through the open French window.
"And I must tell you this thing," pursued the captain's voice.
Its tone arrested her.
"But I am mad to say it."
"Don't say it then," she began.
"I can't help myself. You must listen. I love you better than all the world. I won't marry any one but you. I will marry you, I am determined."
"You are determined," repeated Beatrice, slowly. "You—determined—and about me? I am obliged."