Already, it was much to have pacified Lily on that incident of the marriage: Lily believed him. One thing, however, disquieted Trampy: bigamy, all the same, meant doing time. Now, if some jealous person produced the proof of that marriage, contracted under the Western law ... suppose it were valid ... really valid? H’m! Was he going to lose Lily for that? And his liberty into the bargain? That Lily who was worth her weight in gold, love and fortune in one!
Trampy resolved to broach this delicate subject:
“Suppose I was married,” he hinted, one day, “that wouldn’t matter. Couldn’t we ... live together ... eh?”
“I like your style!” said Lily, feeling slightly indignant at such a proposal. “What do you take me for?”
“I was only joking,” Trampy hastened to say. “If you want to be married, I’m quite agreeable.”
“I insist upon it!”
“So then you prefer to take strangers into our confidence?”
“What strangers?” asked Lily, in surprise.
“Why, the quill-drivers at Somerset House and those damned fire-escapes.”
Lily had enough religion to know that the fire-escape was the clergyman: