She wore a peacock-coloured evening gown Jerry had designed for her, long and soft and wonderful in colour. It brought out her dark hair, her big eyes, heightened the whiteness of her skin. It emphasized a certain stateliness in the woman, akin to the stateliness of the bird whose plumage they had copied. Jane was surprised at herself. She felt that she looked a different person, she hoped the new self was Mrs. Jerry Paxton, and that her husband would be pleased with her. In the absorption in her toilet she had entirely forgotten their late discussion. Her side of it had been without heat, so when she stepped into the studio, she was surprised to see Jerry's furrowed brow, as he strode up and down the floor. She did not speak, trying to get his point of view in the matter, so that he was abreast of her before he saw her. "Good Lord!" he said, "I believe you _are_ a beauty, and you've been keeping it to yourself all the time." She smiled, used to his swift changes of humour. "Walk off, let's get the effect of you." She moved down the room slowly, embarrassed. "You're great! You'll be a sensation. I'll paint you in that. Look here, you can have the check book to-morrow. I don't know what all the fuss was about, but you're beautiful, and you ought to have what you want." She slowly shook her head. "Anything the matter with that?" he cried. "You're only giving me a bigger present than before. It isn't that you recognize my--my equality." "For a silent woman you can stir up more words! Don't you want the check book?" She came to him, laid a hand on his arm, as a mother might reassure a sullen boy. "Yes, I do want it. Thank you. Now, shall we go?" Jerry was right: Jane was a sensation at the party. There is nothing that can rally artists to a standard like beauty. She was too observant to be unaware of her effect, too simple to take conspicuous advantage of it. She was just the gentle rather elusive Jane they had all known, only smiling and responsive now, where before she had been silent. The main surprise was the effect upon Jerry of her unqualified success. He was all possessive male. He acted the devoted husband, played up to the situation in his best manner. Jane found it deliciously amusing. It would all have gone off with _esprit_, and less embarrassment than Jane had foreseen, except for one unexpected guest. About midnight, when the party was in full swing, the door opened and Martin Christiansen appeared. He was greeted with shouts of welcome on all sides, but Jane's heart stopped beating. He had been out of town at the time of her wedding and since then, fearful of dead words laid out in ink, she had waited for his return to explain, possibly to justify, her position. "I came back to town to-night, and found your note," he said in hearty greeting to Jinny. "You bid me to a wedding feast and omit the magic names."