Ryder was practically free to do as he pleased, and what he pleased to do was to take time to get acquainted with the charming woman at his side. They must go somewhere for their honeymoon where he would not be likely to run into people he knew, and where he and his wife could be quiet and undisturbed. Getting the license was neither a long nor troublesome matter, for they were the first at the clerk's office. He signed his name "John Ryder," knowing that there were probably a dozen of the same name in the directory and the publication of it would scarcely warn his friends of what he was doing. The girl signed after him, and surely nobody--unless it was that detestable Sam Marks--would realize who she was. "Who will marry us?" she asked, leaving all the details to him very prettily. "We could be married right here in the chapel," he told her. "But if you would rather, I know of an old dominie on Bank Street." "How funny!" "Why?" "That you should know anybody in that part of New York. That is Greenwich Village, isn't it?" "Yes. You seem to have studied your map of the town." "Oh, I have learned a little something about New York," she responded, smiling slightly. Aside from this brief interchange of remarks, there was very little said as the taxicab rolled uptown to a quiet hotel. Both were doing some very serious thinking. It was not a situation to provoke trifling conversation. Ryder arranged for a parlor where Miss Mont could remain quietly during his absence. He did not delay for luncheon himself, but did not forget to send up a dainty repast for his bride-to-be. He walked into the offices of John Ryder & Company about noon and cast the whole force into first a state of confusion, and then of wonder. He was usually the most methodical of persons and went through with any business--even the routine work of the day--in a most exemplary manner. There was seldom any friction in John Ryder's offices when he was there. From his chief clerk and his personal stenographer down through the strata of employees to the very porter, system was inculcated into their daily lives both by precept and the example of the "boss." Today he literally tore what little system there was left in his force to shreds. He started several people on the same errand; he dictated the same letter three times and in as many different ways. His stenographer, a very severe young woman, came closer to him than she ever had before in her life and sniffed his breath. Drink was the only explanation she could think of. He gave Brumby, his chief clerk, orders which absolutely antagonized each other, and when the man tremblingly pointed out this fact to Ryder the latter actually lost his temper. "Well, confound it!" ejaculated John Ryder, "you know what I mean, don't you? There's only one sensible way to do that thing. Do it, and don't bother me!"