But he scouted this, and then, as she returned to the subject again, interrupted her, drawing some papers from his pocket.
“Oh, by the way,” he said, “here are the sketch plans for the alterations of the house at Geneva. The contractor brought them to the office today. He’s made that change about the dining-room.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Laura, interested at once, “you mean about building on the conservatory?”
“Hum—no,” answered Jadwin a little slowly. “You see, Laura, the difficulty is in getting the thing done this summer. When we go up there we want everything finished, don’t we? We don’t want a lot of workmen clattering around. I thought maybe we could wait about that conservatory till next year, if you didn’t mind.”
Laura acquiesced readily enough, but Jadwin could see that she was a little disappointed. Thoughtful, he tugged his mustache in silence for a moment. Perhaps, after all, it could be arranged. Then an idea presented itself to him. Smiling a little awkwardly, he said:
“Laura, I tell you what. I’ll make a bargain with you.”
She looked up as he hesitated. Jadwin sat down at the table opposite her and leaned forward upon his folded arms.
“Do you know,” he began, “I happened to think—Well, here’s what I mean,” he suddenly declared decisively. “Do you know, Laura, that ever since we’ve been engaged you’ve never—Well, you’ve never—never kissed me of your own accord. It’s foolish to talk that way now, isn’t it? But, by George! That would be—would be such a wonderful thing for me. I know,” he hastened to add, “I know, Laura, you aren’t demonstrative. I ought not to expect, maybe, that you—Well, maybe it isn’t much. But I was thinking a while ago that there wouldn’t be a sweeter thing imaginable for me than if my own girl would come up to me some time—when I wasn’t thinking—and of her own accord put her two arms around me and kiss me. And—well, I was thinking about it, and—” He hesitated again, then finished abruptly with, “And it occurred to me that you never had.”
Laura made no answer, but smiled rather indefinitely, as she continued to search the pages of the book, her head to one side.
Jadwin continued:
“We’ll call it a bargain. Some day—before very long, mind you—you are going to kiss me—that way, understand, of your own accord, when I’m not thinking of it; and I’ll get that conservatory in for you. I’ll manage it somehow. I’ll start those fellows at it tomorrow—twenty of ’em if it’s necessary. How about it? Is it a bargain? Some day before long. What do you say?”
Laura hesitated, singularly embarrassed, unable to find the right words.
“Is it a bargain?” persisted Jadwin.
“Oh, if you put it that way,” she murmured, “I suppose so—yes.”
“You won’t forget, because I shan’t speak about it again. Promise you won’t forget.”
“No, I won’t forget. Why not call her the Thetis?”
“I was going to suggest the Dart, or the Swallow, or the Arrow. Something like that—to give a notion of speed.”
“No. I like the Thetis best.”
“That settles it then. She’s your steam yacht, Laura.”
Later on, when Jadwin was preparing to depart, they stood for a moment in the hallway, while he drew on his gloves and took a fresh cigar from his case.
“I’ll call for you here at about ten,” he said. “Will that do?”
He spoke of the following morning. He had planned to take Page, Mrs. Wessels, and Laura on a day’s excursion to Geneva Lake to see how work was progressing on the country house. Jadwin had set his mind upon passing the summer months after the marriage at the lake, and as the early date of the ceremony made it impossible to erect a new building, he had bought, and was now causing to be remodelled, an old but very well constructed house just outside of the town and once occupied by a local magistrate. The grounds were ample, filled with shade and fruit trees, and fronted upon the lake. Laura had never seen her future country home. But for the past month Jadwin had had a small army of workmen and mechanics busy about the place, and had managed to galvanise the contractors with some of his own energy and persistence. There was every probability that the house and grounds would be finished in time.
“Very well,” said Laura, in answer to his question, “at ten we’ll be ready. Good night.” She held out her hand. But Jadwin put it quickly aside, and took her swiftly and strongly into his arms, and turning her face to his, kissed her cheek again and again.
Laura submitted, protesting:
“Curtis! Such foolishness. Oh, dear; can’t you love me without crumpling me so? Curtis! Please. You are so rough with me, dear.”
She pulled away from him, and looked up into his face, surprised to find it suddenly flushed; his eyes were flashing.
“My God,” he murmured, with a quick intake of breath, “my God, how I love you, my girl! Just the touch of your hand, the smell of your hair. Oh, sweetheart. It is wonderful! Wonderful!” Then abruptly he was master of himself again.
“Good night,” he said. “Good night. God bless you,” and with the words was gone.
They were married on the last day of June of that summer at eleven o’clock in the morning in the church opposite Laura’s house—the Episcopalian church of which she was a member. The wedding was very quiet. Only the Cresslers, Miss Gretry, Page, and Aunt Wess’ were present. Immediately afterward the couple were to take the train for Geneva Lake—Jadwin having chartered a car for the occasion.
But the weather
