She turned her face to him, it was dumb with its trouble.
"Oh no—no, sir—don't go away."
"I must. But before I go, I want to ask you if you'll be my wife——"
The hands she held clasped in her lap gripped each other tight. Her mouth was set.
"I'm asking you now, Rose. To be my wife. My wife," he repeated fiercely, as if he repelled with violence a contrary suggestion.
"I can't be your wife, sir," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because," she said simply, "I'm not a lady."
At that Tanqueray cried, "Ah," as if she had hurt him.
"No, sir, I'm not, and you mustn't think of it."