“You mean you⸺?” She put an imaginary ring on her finger.
“Yes. I married her at the Mairie.”
Anastasya looked blankly into him, as though he contained cheerless stretches where no living thing could grow.
“You mean to say you’ve done that!”
“Yes; I have.”
“Why?”
Tarr stopped a moment.
“Well, the alleged reason was that she is enceinte.”
“But—whose is the child?”