I would forget her for days together, and then desire her with an
irritating intensity at last, one Saturday afternoon, after a brooding
morning, I determined almost savagely that these delays must end.

I went off to the little home at Walham Green, and made Marion come with
me to Putney Common. Marion wasn't at home when I got there and I had
to fret for a time and talk to her father, who was just back from
his office, he explained, and enjoying himself in his own way in the
greenhouse.

"I'm going to ask your daughter to marry me!" I said. "I think we've
been waiting long enough."

"I don't approve of long engagements either," said her father. "But
Marion will have her own way about it, anyhow. Seen this new powdered
fertiliser?"

I went in to talk to Mrs. Ramboat. "She'll want time to get her things,"
said Mrs. Ramboat....

I and Marion sat down together on a little seat under some trees at the
top of Putney Hill, and I came to my point abruptly.

"Look here, Marion," I said, "are you going to marry me or are you not?"

She smiled at me. "Well," she said, "we're engaged--aren't we?"

"That can't go on for ever. Will you marry me next week?"

She looked me in the face. "We can't," she said.