He sauntered up to the fireplace and stood on the hearth-rug, his hands in his pockets. Norma, looking at him from her easy-chair, wondered at a certain ignobility that she detected for the first time beneath his bluff, prosperous air. In spite of birth and breeding he looked common.
“Well?” he said. “We had better have it out at once. What is it to be? I must have an answer sooner or later.”
“Can't it be later?”
“If you insist upon it. I'm not going to hold a pistol to your head, my dear girl. Only you must admit that I've treated you with every consideration. I have n't worried you. You took it into your head to put off our marriage. I felt you had your reasons and I raised no objection. But we can't go on like this forever, you know.”
“Why not?” asked Norma.
“Human nature. I am in love with you, and want to marry you.”
“But supposing I am not in love with you, Morland. I've never pretended to be, have I?”
“We need n't go over old ground. I accepted all that at the beginning. The present state of affairs is that we are engaged; when are we going to be married?”
“Oh, I don't know,” said Norma, desperately. “I have n't thought of it seriously. I know I have behaved like a beast to you—you must forgive me. At times it has seemed as though I was not the right sort to marry and bring children into the world. I should loathe it!”
“Oh, I don't think so,” said Morland, in a tone he meant to be soothing. “Besides—”