Jane stood, perfectly still, facing him for a good second.

"What did you say?"

"I am at the mercy of things, I need a wife. I want you," he answered incoherently.

"Why do you want me?"

"Because you are able and quiet, because you're work atmosphere, because you are the kind I need."

"You know nothing about me, Mr. Paxton," she said quietly.

"Are you married?"

"No. I mean you know nothing about my thoughts, my interests, my views of life."

"I don't care what your views of life are. I know you don't talk about them all the time. I've known you for five years, and I ask you to marry me."

"You think I can protect you from the other women; is that it?"

"I didn't mean to say——"

"Let us be quite frank about it."

"That's partly it," he admitted. "How can I get anything done——"

"You think I could make you comfortable? Look after the studio, attend to the meals and other details which annoy you."

"You're used to doing that," he said.

"Quite so. And what am I to get out of this bargain, Mr. Paxton?"

He stared at her a second.

"Marrying me is not exactly a step down for you, socially," he said.

"That does not interest me especially, but I admit it. Is there anything else?"

"It would mean freedom from work, it would mean that you would have a home and be supported. It would mean leisure, and a chance to improve yourself. I think it would be a mighty good thing for you."

She smiled her disconcerting smile.

"You are taking a risk. You don't know me at all. What you want is a dumb wife, and, if you remember the play, she was not at all a comfortable possession."

"I'm taking no greater risk than you are."

"Oh, yes. I know you. I've studied you, off and on, for five years. You have barely looked at me. Think of Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon and Miss Morton. Would you be apologetic for me with them?"

"Not a bit. I saw you handle them at the pageant."

"And the studio crowd? Remember I've been a sort of servant to them."

"They're all good sports. They all know you, and what you are. We can count on them."

"I have no family. Have you any relations?"

"No."

"I think we ought to face all the possibilities."

Jerry felt a trifle uncomfortable. If he had counted on any "King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid" scene, it had not worked out at all. He seemed to be defending himself to Jane, while she conducted the interview.

"You don't dislike me, do you?" he asked.

"No. But I think we would better keep sentiment out of the matter, don't you? It is, after all, a business arrangement, of so much for so much."

"I thought maybe you were hurt because I did not protest some affection for you."

"Oh, not at all."

"I'm afraid I've done it very badly."

"No, on the whole, I think you've done it very well. The main thing is that we should both understand perfectly. My contention is that I understand it better than you do."

"I understand that you do not think much of me or the idea," he said impatiently.

"On the contrary, I think highly of both. I only suggest that you ought to know more about my ideas and ambitions."

"I'll take them on faith, Jane, if you will take me so."

She hesitated a moment; her heart was suffocating her. Here was her chance, here was the open road to experience, possibly romance. Should she enter? Dared she risk so much on one throw? Christiansen's words came to her: "Come, child, let's be about your living."

"Thank you, Mr. Paxton, I will marry you," she said to Jerry.

"Good. I hope you may never regret it," he answered earnestly.

"I hope the same for you," she flashed back at him.

"When will you—when shall we do it?"

"Whenever you like."

"To-day, now. Let's get it over so I, so we, can settle down. Will you marry me to-day, Jane?"

She gasped, then spoke quietly.

"I am ready."

"Good! That's what I like about you, Jane, no shilly-shallying, just going straight after things."

"Will you remember that if you find me going after things you do not approve of?" she smiled.

"Let's go get a license. Do you mind a justice-of-the-peace ceremony?"

"No; I prefer it."

"Bully for you. Where's my hat?"

"In the bedroom closet."

"How the deuce did it get in there?"

"I put it there. You kicked it under the couch when you were inspecting the pictures this morning."

"Was that this morning? It seems years ago," he said. "Jane, you won't make me keep my hat in that closet, will you?" he asked, when he came back with hat, stick, and gloves.

"I shall not marry you to reform you," she answered.

"Come on, then, if you're ready."

They went to the City Hall, talking of all kinds of irrelevant things. They were an incongruous-looking pair, the striking, smartly dressed man, and his working girl companion.

"I suppose this is the kind of thing they talked in the tumbrils," he said suddenly.

"Are you frightened—shall we go back?" she asked.

"No. I'm only joking."

When they were getting the license, Jerry said to her:

"How old are you, Jane?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Is that all? I thought you were older than that."

During the rest of the arrangements, and during the brief ceremony, they exchanged no words at all. Of the two, Jerry was the more nervous. When they came out into the sunlight of afternoon, he gave a deep sigh.

"That's over," he said.

"It was rather like any business deal, wasn't it? I opened a bank account once. It was rather like that, even more impressive," she said coolly.

"That is about what we have done, isn't it? Opened a sort of mutual bank account?"

She nodded.

"That's what we think we've done," she amended.

"Have we had any lunch?"

"No. But it must be three o'clock. We can let it go.

"I'm famished, and you must be, too. Let's go to the Brevoort and have a wedding breakfast, isn't that what they call it?"

When they were seated at a small table, by the window, and he was inspecting the menu, he said:

"I don't know any of the things you like to eat, Jane. Do you want to order for yourself?"

"I would like roast chicken, a salad, and something sweet."

"Coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

Jerry ordered wine. When it was brought, served, and the waiter gone, he took up his glass, and leaned toward Jane.

"To our experiment, Jane Paxton!"

She flushed, took up her glass, and touched her lips to it in silence, because she could not speak.

"Do you feel married to me, Jane?"

"No," she answered, smiling.

"How shall we announce it to the studio crowd? Shall we have them all in to-night, and get it over?"

"No. I'd rather meet them one at a time, if you don't mind. It will get about soon enough, and I don't want any fuss."

"All right. Suit yourself."

"I wish you would tell Miss Roberts first, Mr. Paxton."

"Call me Jerry. Why should I tell Bobs first?"

"She is such a good friend; she would want to hear it from you."

"I'm not so sure about that. We'll see. Are there some best friends you have to tell?"

"Only one—Martin Christiansen."

"Christiansen—the critic fellow?"

"He is my only friend."

"You've got good taste in your friends, Jane. He is one of the most sought-after men in this town. I suppose you know his story?"

"No; I am not in his confidence."

"Hasn't he told you about his wife?"

"No. I did not know he had one."

"That's rather queer, isn't it, if he's such a good friend?"

"I think not. Our relation is intellectual, not personal."

"Jane, you don't believe in platonic friendship, do you?"

"Certainly, between some types of men and women."

He laughed, and shook his head.

"The story is that his wife is a nervous wreck, who lives in hospitals. They say that he was deeply in love with her, that he has always been true to her."

"Yes, he would be that."

"Great chap. I'm afraid of him, myself. He doesn't think much of me, I imagine."

"We have not spoken of you," she said simply.

After their late lunch, they took a taxi to Jane's tenement. There, she told her news to Mrs. Biggs, and explained that she was taking a few things for the night, that she would come the next day to dismantle and move her belongings.

Some inexplicable instinct had made her ask Jerry to wait in the cab. Alone, she let herself into the white room. Milly followed her with loud purrings. She took her up, held her close, while she looked about at the familiar surroundings.

"Milly, Milly, what have I done?" she whispered. "I'm frightened at myself. I want to come back."

She set herself deliberately to collect her things, hoping to control a climax of emotions with accustomed commonplace actions.

"Milly, we are not making a very good showing with a bridal outfit," she said chokingly.

Mrs. Biggs, panting with curiosity, came in with offers of help.

"Look after Milly, will you, Mrs. Biggs? I may leave her with you for good."

"Don't he like cats?"

"I don't know."

Jane put on her best black dress, with the white collar and cuffs, and piled her hair softly at the back of her head, as her only concession to the new situation.

"Why, Miss Judd, I should say Mrs. Paxton, ye look real purty. I didn't s'pose it was in ye."

"Thank you, Mrs. Biggs," Jane laughed.

She bade good-bye to her landlady and Milly, and hurried downstairs.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, Mr. Paxton."

"Not at all. Why wouldn't you let me go up and see your room, Jane?"

"I don't know," she answered.

As Jerry let them into the studio, he turned to her.

"Welcome home, Jane."

"Thank you," she said, her heart beating high.

"Couldn't you say, 'thanks, Jerry?'"

"Thanks, Jerry," repeated Jane slowly, and with feeling.