"Do you want to please me, Rose?"
Her face was firm as she looked at him. It was as if she held him in check by the indomitable set of her chin, and the steady light of her eyes. (Where should he be if Rose were to let herself go?)
Her mouth trembled, it protested against these austerities and decisions. It told him dumbly that she did want, very much, to please him; but that she knew her place.
Did she? Did she indeed know her place? Did he know it?
"You're right, Rose. That isn't the way I ought to have put it. Will you do me the honour of going for a drive with me?"
She looked down, troubled and uncertain.
"It can be done, Rose," he said, answering her thoughts. "It can be done. The only thing is, would you like it?"
"Yes, sir, I would like it very much."
"Can you be ready by three o'clock?"
At three she was ready.