"When may they be in?"
"Why?" she asked, with lips against his—her hot, soft, caressing lips—and her hands on his cheeks.
"No why; no why," he said.
"You want them to come in?"
"I don't care."
"What do you, care about?"
"You."
"You do?"
"Of course I do. That's why I came back."
"It wasn't because I wired you?"
"Anyway, I was coming back to you."
It wasn't true, he knew; or he had known it and would know it again; but he felt no falseness in it, saying it with lips upon hers.
She tightened her clasp. "You wanted me to wire you?"
"Thank God you did."
"What?"
"Thank God you did!"
What was he saying? Did he know? The stir he had sought, and tried to force, had seized him like drunkenness. It was like knowing he was drunk and doing a thing because he was drunk and knowing it, yet not stopping himself.
"Why were you coming back to me?" Lida said.
"To marry you."
"Why to marry me?"
"When, can we do it?"
"When do you want to?"
"Now."
"Now? Right away?"
