"Yes, my hermit, I am almost so good a singer as a dancer. And I could play the piano if there was any one smart enough to know. You see I bring you the dowry." A very bored Alderman said that they were man and wife, but there was some excitement when they came out of the City Hall and two newspaper photographers took their pictures. Peter was proud of the fact that both the camera men made a point of treating him as a person of a good deal of importance. "You see," he said, "I'm somebody in my business." "The paper you work on what is the name?" "It's called the Bulletin." "And what is it they pay you?" "Well, with my share of the syndicate and all that it amounts to about $100 a week." "One hundred dollars a week! That is funny. My pay it is $50. I have caught a millionaire. Peter, why do they pay you $100 a week?" "I don't know, Maria----" "One hundred dollars a week to write about the baseball game! Fifty dollars a week to Maria Algarez. My God, what a country! I do not like that, Peter. Still, it does not matter so much. Maybe I am glad that you are rich. You can buy me a piano and I will show you that I know how to play Chopin. You would like that." "That'll be fine," said Peter. "Where was it that you learned so much about this baseball that they pay you $100 for the week?" "I used to play myself at Harvard. At least I played one year. I pitched against Yale and shut 'em out. The next year I got fired because I couldn't learn French." "But that is so easy, the French. I do not know what it is to shut Yale out." "Of course it's easy for you. You lived there, you told me ever since you were five. Any foreigner ought to be able to speak French." "But I am not. I am now the American, I know that. I am Mrs. Peter Neale." "Oh," she said, and made a fearful grimace, "that you must never call me. It must be that I am still Maria Algarez. Mrs. Peter Neale I do not know. Maria Algarez she will not die. Oh no, Peter, you understand that?" "It's all right with me," said Peter. "I'm just going to call you Maria any way." "And, Peter, I forgot, you have a father and a mother and the relations for me to meet." "Not a one. I've got an uncle in Salt Lake City. That's a long way off if you don't know. But how about you?" "Maybe, who can tell. They are no good. I do not care. Perhaps they are dead. Peter, you are all I have in the world. That is why you must buy me the grand piano."