“Do you think it is just right to treat me this way, Annie?”
“What way do you mean, Dick?”
He bit his lip, then looked straight into her eyes and came out with characteristic directness:—
“I don't like to think I've been making a mistake all this while, Annie. Maybe I have never asked you right out if you would marry me. I'm not a college fellow, and it isn't always easy for me to say things, but I thought you knew what I meant. And I thought that you didn't mind my meaning it.”
She was beginning to look serious and troubled.
“But if there is any doubt about it, I say it right now. Will you marry me? It is what I have been working for—what I have been buying the schooner for—and if I had thought for a minute that you weren't going to say yes sooner or later, I should have gone plumb to the devil before this. It isn't a laughing matter. It has been the thought of you that has kept me straight, and—and—can't you see how it is, Annie? Haven't you anything to say to me?”
She looked at him. He was so big and brown; his eyes were so clear and blue.
“Don't let's talk about it now. You're so—impatient.”
“Do you really think I've been impatient?”
She could not answer this.