But Hyacinth remembered that he was poorer than any curate.

He determined to put the matter plainly before Marion without delay.
The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of her wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked that Marion should be sent to him.

The room was empty, as he expected.
He stood and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the threadbare carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs.

They were strange properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, but they made his confession of poverty easier.
Marion entered at last and stood beside him.

He neither took her hand nor looked at her.
'When I told you to-day that I loved you,' he said, 'I ought to have told you that I am very poor.' 'I know it,' she said.
'But I am poorer even than you know.