She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. Here are their letters. Anna was suddenly very quiet. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith.
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