She laughed and hugged him. He thought it was altogether because of the decision about the marriage. “Yes--do let’s take in Niagara,” she said, and she laughed again. “I’ve got a lot to do before inauguration,” he went on. “After we get to Harrison I may not be able to spend much time with you.” “How much’ll we have to live on, George?” “Oh--lots of money. The salary’s eight thousand a year. We’re going to live very simply. I don’t believe in acting the way our governors have been acting lately. We mustn’t forget that we are working for the people--and that they are very poor. I take it that you don’t care for luxury--or you wouldn’t have bothered with me.” “I don’t care for anything but you,” she said. “And I know what I’m about.” “Oh, you’ll soon get your bearings, and we’ll be saving money. We’ve got to live after we get out, you know. And I may not be able to make as much as eight thousand at lecturing and law--_my_ kind of law.” “Don’t worry about that,” said she. He laid his hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. Said he: “You understand that I mean what I say, Ellen?” “Yes--George.” “And that it isn’t going to be any different with me after we’re married.” “It mustn’t be.” “Out of your class--into mine--to stay there, Ellen.” “To stay there. I’ve learned about the men who use the people to step up on, and then turn traitors. I am marrying your life, George. You are not marrying mine--what mine has been.” They looked at each other gravely. And it was then and there that they took their real marriage vows. The ceremony in the large drawing-room two days later was less impressive. In fact, it was absurd, as marriage ceremonies in the customary surroundings of pretentiousness usually are--to all who have an unspoiled sense of humor. The fussy and angry father, alternating thoughts of tenderness with longings to slay--the solemn-ass preacher in robes, with affected voice and sycophant manner toward rich Senator Clearwater--the pretty grotesque accidents due to the agitation of Eleanor and the awkwardness of the lank and long governor-elect--the snufflings and weepings of Aunt Louisa, glad Eleanor was making a marriage that improved the prospects of her own grown and married children for a large share of the Clearwater fortune--these and all other absurdities and hypocrisies made the wedding something for the happy pair to joke about on the train. “How much did you tell Mr. Desbrough to give the clergyman?” she asked. George blushed. “I was going to give him twenty-five, but Bill said he was such a swell he must have fifty. So I had to let it go at that.” “Weakening already!” mocked she. “Five dollars would have been too much. He’s a frightful cad--always fawning on rich people and hunting a rich wife--and he a servant of Jesus Christ.”