"Well," he said, "that's ended. I'll take care of you now, I'll take you out of this. Look at me! There's nothing between us now, no fictitious barrier, no mistaken idea of loyalty to a man who took advantage of your false step to make you play his own foolish game. You made a gallant show. It almost deceived me, once or twice, almost made me believe you liked him.... Never mind that. Like a brave girl you've freed yourself from that intolerable position. And I'm here, Susan, where I always was, at your feet."
She lifted her head; a little, sad, desperate face upturned.
"Why must you insult me?" she said. "Is it because I am all alone?"
"I'm asking you to marry me," said Rackham.
She stared at him for a minute. His pursuit of her was not all selfish: there was an impatient fondness in his reckless face.
"I—?" she said faintly. "A woman of whom you know nothing but that she came among you as an impostor? You cannot mean what you say, Lord Rackham."
He broke in on her protestation roughly.
"Do you think I mind tattle?" he said. "Let their tongues wag. We'll hold up our heads and flout 'em. I'll leave it to Barnaby to find a way out of his muddle.—Lord, how it will puzzle them,—how they'll jabber when they see our marriage advertised in the Morning Post—!"
He was taking her assent for granted, arrogant in the heat of his headlong moment. Perhaps it did not strike him as possible that she would refuse. What woman in her plight would not lean gladly on the rescuer who came to offer her his kingdom? Perhaps he was blinded by his confidence in his luck.
"I—can't marry you!" she said.