I'm willing to do it....

Rita, will you marry me ?" Margaret leaned back upon the sofa and laughed until his blood began to run alternately hot and cold.
"I beg your pardon," he stammered.

"I did not realize how it sounded.
Only--you know how things are with our sort of people.

And, as men go, I can't help knowing I'm what's called a catch, and that you're looking for a suitable husband....

As it's apparently a question of him or me, and as you've admitted you got him by practically proposing--...Damn it all, Rita, I want you, and I'm not going to let such a man as he is have you.