"I don't think it's necessary for Dominic to wear black for my husband," she said, as one open to reason. "One puts one's footman in black, but not one's secretary." At that terrible word "secretary" Antonia gave way. "I can't let her do it!" she wailed. "In crape and he in colors--at hotels! Oh, Doris, it's horrible--what you're doing, but I must save you from utter ruin! I will make proper legal arrangements to give you half the income from the estate, and you can marry this--this person." She covered her large statuesque face with her large white hands. Doris patted the heaving shoulder, but she did not leap at the offer. For an instant Williams thought she was going to bargain. She was, but not for money. "Antonia, it's very kind of you," she said; "but I don't see how I could take your money--money which at least legally would have become yours--to do something that you hated." "You can't expect me to approve of your marriage." "If you don't, I won't do it," said Doris. "I'll just go--the way I said." And on this she obstinately took her stand. Nor would she be content with Antonia's cry that she disapproved less of marriage than of this other horrible immoral plan. "There was nothing immoral in my plan," answered Doris proudly, "and I cannot let you say so." She insisted on being approved, and at length Antonia approved of her--or said she did. And so the papers were drawn up and signed, and the arrangements for the wedding went forward, and at last Hale returned. Williams had been waiting eagerly for this. He was more curious than he had ever been in his life. His whole estimate of his own judgment of men was at stake. Did Hale know, or didn't he? Five minutes alone with the young artist would tell him, but those five minutes were hard to get; Doris Helen was always there. Even when Williams made an appointment with Hale at his office, the young widow was with him. They were married early one morning, and their vessel was to sail at noon. Then at last, while Doris was changing her clothes, Hale was left alone in the front drawing-room with Antonia and the lawyer. Antonia, who still clung to her belief that her sister-in-law was an innocent instrument in the hands of a wicked man, would not speak to Hale, but sat erect, with her eyes fixed on her brother's portrait. It was Hale who opened the conversation. "Miss Southgate," he said, with his engaging energy, "I can understand you don't like me much for taking Doris away, but I do hope you'll let me tell you how nobly I think you have behaved." Antonia stared at him as if in her emptied safe she had discovered a bread-and-butter letter from the burglar. Then without an articulated word she rose and swept out of the room. Hale sighed. "I do wish she didn't hate me so," he said. "Doris tells me she says she approves of our marriage, but she doesn't behave as if she did." "At least," said Williams, "she made it possible." Hale took him up quickly.