at, for me, you are the--"

"Gerald," she said, "for God's sake!"

"I'm a two hundred-a-month man now, Hester. I want to build you the
prettiest, the whitest little house in this town. Out in the Briarwood
section. I'll make them kowtow to you, Hester; I--"

"Why," she said, slowly, and looking at him with a certain sadness, "you
couldn't keep me in stockings, Gerald! The aigrettes on this hat cost
more than one month of your salary."

"Good God!" he said.

"You're a dear, sweet boy just the same; but you remember what I told
you about my crepe-de-Chine soul."

"Just the same, I love you best in those crispy white shirt waists you
used to wear and the little blue suits and sailor hats. You remember
that day at Finleys' picnic, Hester, that day, dear, that you--you--"

"You dear boy!"

"But it--your mistake--it--it's all over. You work now, don't you,
Hester?"

Somehow, looking into the blueness of his eyes and their entreaty for
her affirmative, she did what you or I might have done. She half lied,
regretting it while the words still smoked on her lips.

"Why, yes, Gerald; I've held a fine position in Lichtig Brothers, New
York importers. Those places sometimes pay as high as seventy-five a
week. But I don't make any bones, Gerald; I've not been an angel."

"The--the salesman, Hester?"--his lips quivering with a nausea for the
question.

"I haven't seen him in four years," she answered, truthfully.

He laid his cheek on her hand.

"I knew you'd come through. It was your environment. I'll marry you
to-morrow--to-day, Hester. I love you."

"You darling boy!" she said, her lips back tight against her teeth. "You
darling, darling boy!"

"Please, Hester! We'll forget what has been."

"Let me go," she said, rising and pinning on her hat; "let me go--or--or
I'll cry, and--and I don't want to cry."

"Hester," he called, rushing after her and wanting to fold her back into
his arms, "let me prove my trust--my love--"

"Don't! Let me go! Let me go!"

At slightly after six the ultra cavalcade drew up at the court-house
steps. She was greeted with the pleasantries and the gibes.

"Have a good time, sweetness?" asked Wheeler, arranging her rugs.

"Yes," she said, lying back and letting her lids droop; "but
tired--very, very tired."

At the hotel, she stopped a moment to write a telegram before going up
for the vapor bath, nap, and massage that were to precede dinner.

"Meyerbloom & Co., Furriers. Fifth