"No, but you will!"
She shrugged her shoulders. "It isn't any use talking," she said. "Your mind is made up!..."
"It is. I want to marry you, Eleanor, and I'm going to marry you. I have a lot to do in the world yet, but that's the first thing I've got to do, and I can't do anything else till I have done it. So you might as well make up your mind to it, and save a lot of time arguing about it when it's going to happen in the end!"
She pushed her cup away, and rose from her seat. "I'm going home," she said. "This conversation makes me feel dizzy!"
"There's no hurry," he exclaimed.
She spoke coldly and deliberately, "It's not a question of hurry," she replied. "It's a question of desire, I wish to go home. Your conversation bores and annoys me!"
"Why?"
"Because you treat me as if I were not human, and had no desires of my own. I'm to marry you, of whom I know absolutely nothing, merely because you want me to marry you. I don't know whether you are a gentleman or not. You have a very funny accent!..."
"What's wrong with my accent?" he demanded.
"I don't know. It's just funny. I've never heard an accent like that before, and so I can't tell whether you're a gentleman or not. If you were an Englishman, I should know at once, but it's different with Irish people. Your very queer manners may be quite the thing in Ireland!"