"That was only preliminary to what I'm going to say." Sally kept her eyes away from him.

She did not want to watch his face.
She knew he was very good, very honourable, very conscientious in his work; she knew that he would make a reasonably good husband, that he was about to offer her a position in life which it was incumbent upon any girl in her circumstances to consider well before refusing.
But she could not look at his face while these things were weighing out their balance in her mind.

It seemed hard enough to be compelled to listen to the sound of his voice; the weak, uncertain quality that it possessed, that faint suggestion of commonness which did not exactly admit of dropped aitches, but rang jarringly in her ears.
"I'm listening," she said rigidly.

Her eyes were fixed without motion on the quiet water.
"Well, I want you to marry me," he exclaimed impulsively.
She said nothing.

She waited.
"After next month, I shall have two hundred pounds a year.