I felt a dash of contemptuous pity for my complacent self.
In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had not at all taken into consideration her personal inclination.

A girl, after all, is but the chattel of her father, and must, perforce, if needs be, marry the man who is chosen for her.

But leaving parental authority out of the question, a girl with brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not be considered when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband.
She usually is willing to the point of eagerness.

That is the manner in which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at all.

But when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is apt to pause.