"Myself. We had best face it—face it now; better now than later. I am only a drag upon you, a handicap—not the kind of woman you should marry. You must marry a stim—stim—stimulus."
Atwood drew her into his arms.
"And so I shall," he answered, "so I shall the first minute she'll let me. To-night even! Do you understand me, Jean? Why shouldn't it be to-night? What do you say?"
Jean said nothing. What folly she had uttered! Give him up! His mere touch exorcised that madness. All the primitive woman in her revolted from the sacrifice. He was hers—hers! Could that pale creature love him as she loved him? Could Julie love him as she loved him? Julie! A gust of passion shook her; part anger with herself for the weakness to which she had stooped, part hot resentment against this superior being who set traps for her inexperience. For it was a trap, that dinner! MacGregor was wholly right. There was war between them; the night had witnessed a battle. What was it all but a manœuvre to humble her before her lover, prove her unfitness, alienate his love?
Then Craig's words took on a meaning.
"I'm in earnest," he was saying. "It isn't a spur-of-the-moment idea. These three days I've had it in mind to ask you to slip off with me quietly and without fuss. We've never been conventional, you and I. Why should we begin now? Nothing could be simpler. It is early yet—little more than ten o'clock. I'll drop you in Irving Place long enough for you to change your dress and pack a bag. Meanwhile I can pick up my own and make sure of the clergyman. That part is easy, too. I'll ask a friend of mine who lives not five blocks off. His wife and sister will be our witnesses. Then the midnight train for Boston and a honeymoon in some coast village."
"But the portrait?" she wavered.
"The best of reasons. The sensible thing is to marry before I begin work. Don't hunt for reasons against it, dear. None of them count. It's our wedding, not Mrs. Grundy's. We'll let her know by one of the morning papers, if there's time to give notice on our way to the train. Julie I'll wire."
A blithe vision of Julie digesting her telegram flitted across Jean's imagination with an irresistible appeal.
"I'll need half an hour, Craig," she said, as the carriage halted.