"I want you to live as I can live," he said, "share what I must have ... that is, I should ask you that if you married me now ..."
He watched her face. It was still illuminated. Her love for him was too vital to be touched by this proposition which she did not wholly understand.
"Most men shrink," Fairfax said, "from taking the woman they love from her luxuries. I believe that I shall not be poor very long. It will be a struggle. If you marry me now, you will share it with me, otherwise ..." He waited a moment.
And she repeated: "Otherwise, Antony?"
"I shall go away," he answered, "and not come back again until I am rich and great."
CHAPTER XVII
After he had left her he was dazed and incredulous. His egoism, his enthusiasm, his idea of his own self-sufficiency seemed preposterous. A man in love should entertain no idea but the thought of the woman herself. He began to chafe at poverty which he had assured her made no difference to him. Did he wish to live again terrible years of sacrifice and sordidness? If so, he could not hope a woman accustomed to luxury would choose to share his struggle. He was absurd.