"I have come." "Yes," he answered; "I asked you to come because I wanted to speak to you." "Yes ?" said Beatrice, looking up from her occupation of digging little holes in the sand with the point of her parasol.

Her face was calm enough, but her heart beat fast beneath her breast.
"I want to ask you," he said, speaking slowly and thickly, "if you will be my wife ?" Beatrice opened her lips to speak, then, seeing that he had only paused because his inward emotion checked his words, shut them again, and went on digging little holes.

She wished to rely on the whole case, as a lawyer would say.
"I want to ask you," he repeated, "to be my wife.

I have wished to do so for some years, but I have never been able to bring myself to it.

It is a great step to take, and my happiness depends on it.