Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. Just a formal marriage. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said.
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