In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. "Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. Sebastianus began performing Marina’s last rites. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. In that sense, my strategy worked. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. But you belong to me—and I want you.
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