To his utter silencing, Jane laughed. Not bitterly or angrily, but just amusedly.
"Jerry, if it were not so ridiculous, it would be insulting! The idea of Martin Christiansen loving me is so absurd as to need no denial. We have had not one second of sentiment between us. He has never been in my room at Mrs. Biggs's since I married you. As for the room, I keep it as a place to go to work, to think, to be by myself. I pay for it myself; it is my office, if you like—my studio. If this information is a trifle disappointing, Jerry, after the fine melodrama you seem to have worked up, I'm afraid it's your own fault," she said, smiling, and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER XXV
It seemed to Jane that this frank, entirely truthful explanation settled the matter of the tenement room once for all. But alas! Jerry did not look at events with the simple directness which characterized Jane. He believed that she spoke the truth, as far as she knew it. But it was outside the laws of human possibilities to Jerry that a man and woman could have such obviously intimate relationship without sex attraction as its cause and excuse. The whole thing smouldered in his mind.
He began to wonder whether Jane had felt jealousy when he had spent so much of his time with Althea Morton, before the baby came. He could not recall the least sign she had ever made of distress or protest. He determined to find out if she could be made jealous. It was his only weapon, so far as he could see. After much consideration, he asked Althea to sit for him, as model for a picture. She accepted with avidity, and the time was set in the afternoons, when Jane was about. Jerry saw to that.
"I've just got an order for a picture from the New Age Club," he remarked at luncheon, breaking a long silence.
"Oh, Jerry, now nice; I'm delighted."
"It's to go over the fireplace in the living-room."
"Good. I'm so glad; it's a big step forward, isn't it?"