"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.