Read the text and analyse it.

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

She did not know what to say. She hesitated still with her back to Vinson, and before she could answer he got up and went over to the wash-basin, where he began to mix drinks for them.

In the silence, Christine looked at herself in the mirror on the wall and wondered why anyone should want to marry her. There came into her mind all the proposals she had imagined from a dream husband, but none of them had been like this. In her dreams she had always known what to say, and had said it well, because the man gave her the right cues; but what could you say to a man who was bending over the basin trying to make the water run cold enough to mix with whisky, and who when he turned round, wore an impersonal face, as if he had already regretted or forgotten that he had asked you to marry him?

“Drink this,” he said, handing her the glass she did not want. “You will feel better.”

“I feel fine, thank you,” she said and then she saw his eyes, and they were not impersonal at all, but staring at her with a naked appeal not to be hurt.

“Oh, Vin,” she said. “I – “And because it seemed so unkind not to say yes at once, she hedged with the excuse of “I don’t know that I could live in America. I’ve never been there, and I – “

“Christine,” he said. “Look at me. I’m not asking you to marry America. I’m asking you to marry me.”

Christine was silent. It was better to say nothing than to say the wrong thing, and her thoughts would not collect themselves. She was excited. If he had put his glass down then and taken her in his arms and kissed her, she would probably have said yes, but he did not move towards her. He took a long swallow of his drink, walked to the window, turned, and said judicially:

“I’m not asking you to give an answer right now. I can understand you may want to give the matter some thought.”

Why, oh why, she thought, standing in the middle of the green carpet with the untasted whisky in her hand, why be so sensible and level-headed about this? This is an emotional matter, and it should be settled emotionally. This is all wrong.

“I think, I’d better go, Vin,” she said unhappily.

If he had protested she would have stayed, but he said: “All right, my dear. If you want to go away and think about it, I’ll be happy for you to do that.”

Christine did not want to think. She wanted to be swayed irretrievably one way or the other. She wanted to accept him with joy and passion, or reject him with sorrow and a few tears, but he was already picking up her coat. When she had put it on, she said, wanting some contact with the man who had asked her to marry him and then withdrawn into himself: “Aren’t you going to kiss me good night?”

“No, he said, looking noble. “I don’t want to influence you in any way. I want you to be free to make the right decision. This is real, Christine. You haven’t got to make a mistake.”

But it isn’t real, she thought. It doesn’t seem to be happening at all. Oh, you fool, you fool, she thought. How can you ask me to marry you when you don’t know how to treat me? If you would take me back into the room and kiss me, I would say yes. You fool. She hated him suddenly, because he had spoiled it for both of them.

“Good night, darling,” he said gently. “I’ll be waiting.”

Well, wait on, she thought furiously, as she went down the endless corridor, her whole body aching for the embraces he had not given her.

From No More Meadows by Monica Dickens

Date: 2016-03-03; view: 909