“Look here, Anne,” he began, abruptly. “I have got something to propose.”
She looked up at him.
“What do you say to a private marriage?”
Without asking a single question, without making objections, she answered him, speaking as bluntly as he had spoken himself:
“I consent to a private marriage.”
He began to temporize directly.
“I own I don’t see how it’s to be managed—”
She stopped him there.
“I do!”
“What!” he cried out, suspiciously. “You have thought of it yourself, have you?”