She put her small fingers lightly on the sleeve of his coat; they slid till they found his hands that hung clenched before him.
At her touch he trembled.
"Don't you know," she said, "that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you? Tell me what you want me to do."
He spoke so low that she strained to hear him.
"To marry me—to be my wife."
Her hand still lay on his, but she herself seemed to draw back and pause.
"Your wife?" she said at last. "My dear, you've only known me ten days."
He took her hand in his and kissed it, bowing his head.
She twisted herself away from him, and drew back her face from his. They rose.