We were so calmly intimate that I soon grew to discuss many of my ideas and plans with her. She was much interested in the figures given by my friend, and got me to set them all down for her. He had twice my salary, and not a cent left at the year's end; and they were not in "society" either. Five hundred dollars was allowed for his personal expenses, and the same for her; little enough to dress on nowadays, he had assured me, with all amusements, travel, books and periodicals, and dentist bills, included.
"I don't think it ought to cost so much," said Dodo.
She was a business woman, and followed the figures closely; and of course she appreciated the high views I held on the subject, and my self-denial, too.
I can't tell to this day how it happened; but before I knew it we were engaged. I was almost sorry, for a long engagement is a strain on both parties; but Dodo cheered me up; she said we were really no worse off than we were before, and in some ways better. At times I fully agreed with her.
So we drifted along for about a year, and then, after a good deal of distant discussion, we suddenly got married.
I don't recall now just why we so hastily concluded to do it; I seemed to be in a kind of dream; but anyway we did, and were absurdly happy about it, too.
"Don't be a Goose, dear boy!" she said. "It isn't wicked to be married.
And we're quite old enough!"
"But we can't afford it—you know we can't," I said. This was while we were camping out on our honey-vacation.
"Mr. Morton Howland," said my wife; "don't you worry one bit about affording it. I want you to understand that you've married a business woman."
"But you've given up your position!" I cried, aghast. "Surely, you don't think of going back!"