The weeks that followed her marriage were so difficult, so complicated for Jane, that she sometimes wondered how she could have blundered into such a labyrinth of problems. Not that she regretted it, but she was forced to ponder it. Jerry was the least of her troubles, for having married her for practical reasons, he took her for granted and made no fuss. But big friends were not so simple-minded.

The very night of their wedding day Jane induced him to go to Bobs with their news. He protested, tried to get out of it, but in the end Jane prevailed. What happened in that long conference in Bobs's studio, she never knew. She thought she heard sobs, and her heart ached for the girl. When Jerry came back, his face was white and drawn, but his relief was obvious. They did not speak of the matter then or ever.

The news of their marriage went through the studios like wind, and a veritable babble of gossip and discussion was loosed. Some of the neighbours were outraged at Jerry's performance, some of them were amused, but after the first shock had worn off, they all accepted the situation.

"After all, he might have married a chorus girl, or a rich fool, instead of old Jane. We all know her, and we're used to her. I think he showed unexpected good sense, for Jerry," was Chatfield's comment.

On one point they all agreed, that it was incredibly good management on Jane's part to have legally attached the fickle Jerry.

Jinny Chatfield led the way, by giving a studio supper in honour of the bride and groom, inviting the entire artist colony.

"Have you anything to wear?" Jerry asked Jane, when the invitation arrived.

"No."

"You must have some clothes, and the proper kind of clothes. I made a good thing out of the pageant, so we're flush now. I will design some gowns for you."

"Oh, don't bother. I can buy some things that will do."

"You must get over that idea, Jane. As my wife, you must look like something; you must have style, and charm."

"Those were not on your list of wife requirements," she said. "I cannot produce either quality."

"Oh, yes, you can. I'll put my mind on it," he said, finally, and he did.

For several days he studied her, as he studied a portrait subject. He marked her good lines, decided about her colours. He made water-colour sketches of the costumes, enjoying himself thoroughly. Jane evinced so little interest that at last he exploded about it.

"Don't you care how you look?"

"I don't, myself, but your wife will care, from this time on."

"Don't you like these things?"

"I think they're beautiful, only I can't see myself in them, somehow."

But Jerry persevered. He bought stuffs, he took them with the designs, to a skilled woman, to be carried out.

Jane went to fittings uncomplainingly, with Jerry in command, and in due time the gowns came home. He had, in the meantime, bought her hats, furs, and all the niceties of a woman's wardrobe. She protested at his lavishness, and submitted to his excellent taste. But when the final purchase was delivered, Jane said to him:

"Jerry, I thoroughly appreciate these lovely things you have given me, and I promise you to give my appearance the most careful attention. But I wish, please, that you would agree to give me a monthly allowance for my needs and desires."

"Oh, you needn't worry about money, Jane. You'll always get it when I have any. When I'm broke, we'll neither of us have any," he laughed.

"But I want to know just what I can depend on. Of course, that would be contingent upon what we have."

"What's the difference whether I give it to you every month or not?"

"It is the difference between my being a self-respecting partner, or a dependant."

"Rubbish! Sounds like woman's rights. For heaven's sake, don't be a woman's righter, Jane."

"You agree to an allowance, then?"

"I don't see why I should. I must say, I think I have been pretty liberal so far——"

"You miss my point. I admit your liberality, and appreciate it, but slaves and servants are dependent upon liberality. It does something to your mind, you must see that."

"I'm hanged if I do."

"You must take my word for it, then, that no marriage can be built on such a basis."

"But I don't agree with you."

"Very well, then, I must take up my work in the studios again."

"What?"

"I must be independent, I must know where I stand."

"You mean to say that you would go about cleaning up studios? My wife cleaning up studios, to pander to this whim?" angrily.

"It isn't a whim, it's a principle. No kind of work can hurt my self-respect, but I want to be regarded as a partner, Jerry. If it is what you used to pay me, by the week, for keeping the studio clean, and your clothes mended, that is enough. But I must know how much it is, and when I get it."

"This is degrading, that's what it is! You don't trust me, that's the long and short of it."

"Oh, yes, I trust you more than you do me, apparently. If I had the money, and had married you, I should give you a check book on our joint account."

"That's nonsense, Jane. It's this modern stuff you've picked up in books. I loathe the new woman with her platforms and her freedoms. Don't begin to feed me up with that stuff."

"You think it over calmly, Mr. Paxton, and you'll see it is only fair."

It was the night of the Chatfields' party, so she left him and went to dress. She took more pains with herself than she had ever taken before. She tried to do her hair as Jinny Chatfield did hers, because she had heard Jerry admire it. She put on the soft, beautiful underthings with unexpected pleasure in their daintiness.

She wore a peacock-coloured evening gown Jerry had designed for her, long and soft and wonderful in colour. It brought out her dark hair, her big eyes, heightened the whiteness of her skin. It emphasized a certain stateliness in the woman, akin to the stateliness of the bird whose plumage they had copied. Jane was surprised at herself. She felt that she looked a different person, she hoped the new self was Mrs. Jerry Paxton, and that her husband would be pleased with her.

In the absorption in her toilet she had entirely forgotten their late discussion. Her side of it had been without heat, so when she stepped into the studio, she was surprised to see Jerry's furrowed brow, as he strode up and down the floor. She did not speak, trying to get his point of view in the matter, so that he was abreast of her before he saw her.

"Good Lord!" he said, "I believe you are a beauty, and you've been keeping it to yourself all the time."

She smiled, used to his swift changes of humour.

"Walk off, let's get the effect of you."

She moved down the room slowly, embarrassed.

"You're great! You'll be a sensation. I'll paint you in that. Look here, you can have the check book to-morrow. I don't know what all the fuss was about, but you're beautiful, and you ought to have what you want."

She slowly shook her head.

"Anything the matter with that?" he cried.

"You're only giving me a bigger present than before. It isn't that you recognize my—my equality."

"For a silent woman you can stir up more words! Don't you want the check book?"

She came to him, laid a hand on his arm, as a mother might reassure a sullen boy.

"Yes, I do want it. Thank you. Now, shall we go?"

Jerry was right: Jane was a sensation at the party. There is nothing that can rally artists to a standard like beauty. She was too observant to be unaware of her effect, too simple to take conspicuous advantage of it. She was just the gentle rather elusive Jane they had all known, only smiling and responsive now, where before she had been silent.

The main surprise was the effect upon Jerry of her unqualified success. He was all possessive male. He acted the devoted husband, played up to the situation in his best manner. Jane found it deliciously amusing.

It would all have gone off with esprit, and less embarrassment than Jane had foreseen, except for one unexpected guest. About midnight, when the party was in full swing, the door opened and Martin Christiansen appeared. He was greeted with shouts of welcome on all sides, but Jane's heart stopped beating.

He had been out of town at the time of her wedding and since then, fearful of dead words laid out in ink, she had waited for his return to explain, possibly to justify, her position.

"I came back to town to-night, and found your note," he said in hearty greeting to Jinny. "You bid me to a wedding feast and omit the magic names."

"How absurd of me. It's Jerry; Jerry and Jane. Mrs. Paxton, this is Mr. Christiansen," she added, leading him to Jane.

His face went slowly white.

"Mrs. Paxton?" he questioned.

"Mr. Christiansen and I are friends," Jane said, with dry lips, giving him a limp hand.

"Not very good ones, I fear, since I hear this news of you so casually. My felicitations, Mrs. Paxton," he added. "Where is your lucky husband?"

"Right at hand, thank you. How are you, Mr. Christiansen? I hear that you and my wife are old friends," said Jerry jocularly.

"You are a very fortunate man, Mr. Paxton; I congratulate you," the big fellow answered.

The gaiety began again, the moment was passed. At the first opportunity Christiansen came to Jane's side.

"Where can we talk?"

"There is a balcony at the end of the room. Let us go there."

He followed her. When they were seated, in the half shadows, he leaned to her.

"What has happened to you?"

"Oh, please understand! It means so much to me to have you understand," she said tensely.

"Of course, I shall understand. Now——"

"I didn't write to you because I felt I could not explain in a letter. I was waiting for you to come home so we could talk it out."

"I see. When did it happen?"

"Two weeks ago."

"You love him?"

"No."

"Why then——"

"Do you remember my saying I was sorry for him—wanted to mother him?"

"You married him for that?"

"That was what I could bring him. I married him because I wanted to begin living. When he asked me, I hesitated; it seemed such madness. It was your words which spurred me on: 'Come, child, let's be about your living.' I am about it now, Mr. Christiansen."

"Child, child, what have you done? Does he love you?"

"No; he wanted me for protection against other women."

"Beast!"

"No, no. We started in, open-eyed, neither of us sentimentalizing the situation. If you examine motives, his were as good as mine."

"You are happy?"

"N—no, but I'm thrilled all the time with a sense of doing, living, being!"

"And the work?"

"Laid aside for a time. But when I get back to it, I shall come like a Greek, bearing gifts!"

"Does he know about your work?"

"No. I felt he might laugh at me. I offered to tell him all about myself, but he did not want to hear, so I let it go. I have thought since, that I should have made him listen."

"How did he happen to offer you this bargain?"

"I think I came upon him in a climax. You see, Mrs. Brendon wanted to marry him to that Miss Morton, with or without his consent. He has never said this, but I have gathered it. Then on the cruise, a sixteen-year-old girl became infatuated with him, and ran away to come north with him. I think he has had some complication with an artist girl since he came home. It really is hard on him, because he doesn't seem to do the courting."

"And you married him, knowing this?"

"I married him because of it."

"But don't you see the danger of that nature, unless it is held by love or passion?"

"Yes."

"You hope to hold him by one of these?"

"I hope to hold him by being what he needs."

"Dear Saint, it's what he wants, not what he needs."

"I know Jerry very well. I feel sure I can manage him."

"And you? What are your chances of happiness?"

"Happiness is always a chance, isn't it? I've played for a big stake, but I'll stand by the risk. My days are full to the brim, with new problems to meet, new questions to answer. You must not worry about me, dear friend," she concluded, her hand on his.

"Not I. You're on the high seas now, but I trust you absolutely, Captain Jane."

"Hi, there, Bride, are you lost in the cedar chest?" called Jerry from below.

"No, we are just coming down," she answered.

"When may I come to see you?"

"Come to the studio to-morrow afternoon. We can have an hour alone, if you come at three. Jerry has a model."

"I will be there."

He took her hand, as she passed him, and laid it to his lips.

"Here's to your deep draught of life, my adventuring one. Bitter or sweet, drink it to the dregs; that's what we are here for!"