"I mean it’s a trial marriage," she repeated coolly. "You mean there was no—no ceremony?" he stammered. "There wasn’t any ceremony. We don’t believe in it. We just said to each other that we’d marry——" "You mean you’ve—you’ve _lived_ with that man on such terms of understanding?" he demanded, white with rage. "I don’t live with him. I live here with Helen," she said, perplexed. "All I would consent to was a trial marriage to see how it went for a year or two——" "Do you mean that what you’ve done is legal?" "Oh, yes, it’s legal," she said seriously. "I’ve found that out." "And—you know wh-what I mean," he said, stammering in his anger; "Was that sufficient for you? Do you want me to speak plainer, Steve? I mean, have you—lived with him?" She understood and dropped her reddening cheek on his shoulder. "_Have_ you?" he repeated harshly. "No.... I thought you understood. It is only a trial marriage; I’ve tried to explain that—make it clear——" "What loose-minded, unconventional Bohemians call a ’trial marriage,’" he said, with brutal directness, "is an agreement between a pair of fools to live as man and wife for a while with an understanding that a formal ceremony shall ultimately confirm the irregularity if they find themselves suited to each other. Is that what you’ve done?" "No." He drew a deep, trembling breath of relief, took her in his arms and held her close. "My little Steve," he whispered, "—my own little Steve! What sort of trap is this he’s led you into?" "No trap. I _wanted_ to try it." "You _wished_ it?" "I was quite willing to try. After a year or two, I’ll know whether I shall ever care to live with him." "After a year or two!" "Yes. That was the understanding. And then, if I didn’t wish to live with him, we can be very quietly divorced. It _was_ a crazy thing to do. But there wasn’t any real risk. Besides——" She hesitated. "Go on," he said. "No, I can’t. If I don’t fall in love with him, I certainly shall never live with him. So," she added calmly, "there’ll be no children to complicate the parting. You see I had some sense, Jim." She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled at him: "It was just an escapade of sorts," she explained, more cheerfully. "It really doesn’t mean anything yet, and I fly around and have a wonderful time, and maybe I’ll take up sculpture with Helen, and maybe I’ll try the stage. Anyway——" she pressed closer to him with a happy sigh, "I’ve got _you_ back, haven’t I? So what do we care whether I’m his wife or not?" He said, holding her closely embraced: "Suppose some other man should fall in love with you, Steve?" "Oh!" she laughed. "Plenty do. Or say they do. I’m nice to them, and they get along very well.... Your moustache is becoming to you, Jim." She touched it curiously, with one tentative finger. "But suppose _you_ should return another man’s love some day?" "I haven’t ever!" she said, laughing back into his eyes.