and seldom could
they be alone; and because they were superior people, not of the class
which loves unashamedly in the public places if it has nowhere else to
love, they restrained themselves. It was a long and hard probation,
lightened sometimes, some rare and precious times, by such moments as
now occurred. As soon as the kitchen-dining-room door closed behind
them like the portals of sanctuary, Osborn held out his arms and Marie
went to them. She rested there while Osborn kissed her with hard,
devouring kisses which made her murmur little pleased protests.

All the while she was thinking, "A week to-day!" Her eyes travelled to
the clock. "At six o'clock, a week this afternoon, I shall be Mrs.
Kerr. We shall be at the hotel, unpacking."

"Not very long now," said Osborn between his kisses. "Soon we'll be
alone as much as we like. We'll be able to shut our own door on
everybody. Won't it be priceless?"

Marie thought it would. She fingered his coat lapels with her modish
hands, and smiled with downcast eyelashes. In happy procession her
dreams paraded by. She flitted a glance up at Osborn's face for a
moment and looked down again. He was good-looking; he was the
best-looking man she knew; his clothes were so good; his voice was so
charming; he had no mean streak like some men; he was all gold. He was
generous. Even while he had been spending all his bank balance, and
more, on that nest for her at the other side of town, it had been
delightful to be taken out by him to the nicest restaurants, hear chic
dinners and good wines ordered with a thrilling lavishness. Many girls
must envy her.

"A lot of fellows will envy me," Osborn murmured even while Marie
thought her thoughts.

She protested again with soft words and the procession of dreams went
by. The little home--how charming it would be! The chintz that matched
her two best trousseau frocks, the solidity and polish of her
dining-room chairs, the white paint and pale spring colours of her
sitting-room, how ravishing it all was! The conveniences of the
kitchen, the latest household apparatus, would they not make the
keeping of the perfect flat a sort of toy occupation for a pretty
girl's few serious moments? In spite of Julia, all would be easy and
sweet. In a kimono and one of those pink caps one could cook a
breakfast without soiling one's fingers. Osborn would like to see his
wife look beautiful behind the coffeepot. She would manage splendidly.
The income, of