in rich drawing-rooms, no more daydreaming
over the varied paths of an entertaining career. It was Matrimony! No
wonder--and no discredit to him--that the young man was somewhat
overwhelmed when he contemplated what that meant in material terms.
Never for the fraction of a moment, it should be said, did he think of
evading the responsibility. His American chivalry would have made that
impossible, even if he had desired it. And Milly had his heart and his
senses completely enthralled.

"Dearest," she said to him that evening, divining the sombre course of
his thoughts, "it will be so different with us when we are married.
We'll have everything pretty, even if it's only two rooms, won't we?"
And her yielding lips sealed his bondage firmer than ever, though he
might know that beauty, even in two rooms, costs money. He shut his eyes
and hoped--which is the only way in such cases.

Milly did not tell him that within a fortnight she should be without
even this home.

* * * * *

"There's going to be no engagement this time," Milly reported briskly to
Sally Norton, when she announced her news, "for I had enough of that
before, with all the fuss. Jack and I are both perfectly free. We're
just going to be married some day--that's all."

"Milly! Well I never!" Sally gasped, amid shrieks of laughter. "Not
really? You don't mean that kid?"

(Sally was conducting a serious affair herself, with a wary old
bachelor, whom ultimately she led in triumph to the altar. Ever after
she referred to Mr. John Bragdon as Milly's "kid lover").

"I think it splendid!" Vivie pronounced in a burst of appreciation.
"It's the real thing, dear. You are both young and brave. You are
willing to make sacrifices for your hearts."

Milly was not yet conscious of making any tremendous sacrifice.
Nevertheless, she adopted easily this sentimentalized view of her
marriage. And Vivie Norton went about among their friends proclaiming
Milly's heroism. Some people were amused; some were sceptical; a few
pitied the young man. "Milly, a poor man's wife--never! For he _is_
poor, isn't he, a newspaper artist?"

"He has a great deal of talent," Vivie Norton asserted with assurance.
Milly had so informed her.

"But an artist!" and Chicago shrugged its shoulders dubiously. An
artist, at least a resident specimen of the craft, might be a
drawing-room lap-dog, unmarried, but married he soon became a seedy
member of society, somewhe