She did not answer, and he waited, striving to see her expression through the veil. But when he offered to lift it, she gently avoided him.
"Did you go to business?" she asked quietly.
"I? Oh, yes, I went back to the office. But Lord! Jacqueline, I couldn't keep my attention on the tape or on the silly orders people fired at me over the wire. So I left young Seely in charge and went to lunch with Jack Cairns; and then he and I returned to the office, where I've been fidgeting about ever since. I think it's been the longest day I ever lived."
"It has been a long day," she assented gravely. "Did Mr. Cairns speak to you of Cynthia?"
"He mentioned her, I believe."
"Do you remember what he said about her?"
"Well, yes. I think he spoke about her very nicely – about her being interesting and ambitious and talented – something of that sort – but how could I keep my mind on what he was saying about another girl?"
Jacqueline looked out of the window across a waste of swamp and trestle and squalid buildings toward University Heights. She said presently, without turning:
"Some day, may I ask Cynthia to visit me?"
"Dearest girl! Of course! Isn't it your house – "
"Silverwood?"
"Certainly – "
"No, Jim."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"What I say. Silverwood is not yet even partly mine. It must remain entirely yours – until I know you – better."
"Why on earth do you say such silly – "
"What is yours must remain yours," she repeated, in a low voice, "just as my shop, and office, and my apartment must remain mine – for a time."
"For how long?"
"I can not tell."
"Do you mean for always?"
"I don't know."
"And I don't understand you, dear," he said impatiently.
"You will, Jim."
He smiled uneasily: "For how long must we twain, who are now one, maintain solitary sovereignty over our separate domains?"
"Until I know you better."
"And how long is that going to take?" he asked, smilingly apprehensive and deeply perplexed by her quiet and serious attitude toward him.
"I don't know how long, I wish I did."
"Jacqueline, dear, has anything unpleasant happened to disturb you since I last saw you?"
She made no reply.
"Won't you tell me, dear," he insisted uneasily.
"I will tell you this, Jim. Whatever may have occurred to disturb me is already a matter of the past. Life and its business lie before us; that is all I know. This is our beginning, Jim; and happiness depends on what we make of our lives from now on – from now on."
The stray lock of golden hair had fallen across her cheek, accenting the skin's pallor through the veil. She rested her elbow on the window ledge, her tired head on her hand, and gazed at the sunset behind the Palisades. Far below, over the grey and wrinkled river, smoke from a steamboat drifted, a streak of bronze and purple, in the sunset light.
"What has happened?" he muttered under his breath. And, turning toward her: "You must tell me, Jacqueline. It is now my right to know."
"Don't ask me."
His face hardened; for a moment the lean muscles of the jaw worked visibly.
"Has anybody said anything about me to you?"
No reply.
"Has – has Mrs. Hammerton been to see you?"
"No."
He was silent for a moment, then:
"I'll tell you now, Jacqueline; she did not wish me to marry you. Did you know it?"
"I know it."
"I believe," he said, "that she has been capable of warning you against me. Did she?"
No reply.
"And yet you married me?" he said, after a silence.
She said nothing.
"So you could not have believed her, whatever she may have said," he concluded calmly.
"Jim?"
"Yes, dear."
"I married you because I loved you. I love you still. Remember it when you are impatient with me – when you are hurt – perhaps angry – "