“You are like an angel,” he said, the blood rushing to his head and face.
“Yes, probably; angels are of many orders.”
“You are the one being that I love!” said Gregory quivering. “I thought I loved before, but I know now! Do not be angry with me. I know you could never like me; but, if I might but always be near you to serve you, I would be utterly, utterly happy. I would ask nothing in return! If you could only take everything I have and use it; I want nothing but to be of use to you.”
She looked at him for a few moments.
“How do you know,” she said slowly, “that you could not do something to serve me? You could serve me by giving me your name.”
He started, and turned his burning face to her.
“You are very cruel; you are ridiculing me,” he said.
“No, I am not, Gregory. What I am saying is plain, matter-of-fact business. If you are willing to give me your name within three weeks’ time, I am willing to marry you, if not, well. I want nothing more than your name. That is a clear proposal, is it not?”
He looked up. Was it contempt, loathing, pity, that moved in the eyes above! He could not tell; but he stooped over the little foot and kissed it.
She smiled.