"Do you mean that what you've done is legal?"
"Oh, yes, it's legal," she said seriously. "I've found that out."
"And—you know wh-what I mean," he said, stammering in his anger; "Was that sufficient for you? Do you want me to speak plainer, Steve? I mean, have you—lived with him?"
She understood and dropped her reddening cheek on his shoulder.
"Have you?" he repeated harshly.
"No.... I thought you understood. It is only a trial marriage; I've tried to explain that—make it clear——"
"What loose-minded, unconventional Bohemians call a 'trial marriage,'" he said, with brutal directness, "is an agreement between a pair of fools to live as man and wife for a while with an understanding that a formal ceremony shall ultimately confirm the irregularity if they find themselves suited to each other. Is that what you've done?"
"No."
He drew a deep, trembling breath of relief, took her in his arms and held her close.
"My little Steve," he whispered, "—my own little Steve! What sort of trap is this he's led you into?"