“Getting married!” he articulated in a voice thick with astonishment, and he folded his podgy hands on his stomach. “So suddenly?”
“Yes … soon.”
“Your intended is in Russia, of course?”
“No, not in Russia.”
“Where then?”
“Here in Frankfort.”
“And who is she?”
“A German; that is, no—an Italian. A resident here.”
“With a fortune?”
“No, without a fortune.”