Don't Pick Me

CHAPTER XII

The weeks that followed her marriage were so difficult, so complicated for Jane, that she sometimes wondered how she could have blundered into such a labyrinth of problems. Not that she regretted it, but she was forced to ponder it. Jerry was the least of her troubles, for having married her for practical reasons, he took her for granted and made no fuss. But big friends were not so simple-minded.

The very night of their wedding day Jane induced him to go to Bobs with their news. He protested, tried to get out of it, but in the end Jane prevailed. What happened in that long conference in Bobs's studio, she never knew. She thought she heard sobs, and her heart ached for the girl. When Jerry came back, his face was white and drawn, but his relief was obvious. They did not speak of the matter then or ever.

The news of their marriage went through the studios like wind, and a veritable babble of gossip and discussion was loosed. Some of the neighbours were outraged at Jerry's performance, some of them were amused, but after the first shock had worn off, they all accepted the situation.

"After all, he might have married a chorus girl, or a rich fool, instead of old Jane. We all know her, and we're used to her. I think he showed unexpected good sense, for Jerry," was Chatfield's comment.

On one point they all agreed, that it was incredibly good management on Jane's part to have legally attached the fickle Jerry.

Jinny Chatfield led the way, by giving a studio supper in honour of the bride and groom, inviting the entire artist colony.

"Have you anything to wear?" Jerry asked Jane, when the invitation arrived.

"No."

"You must have some clothes, and the proper kind of clothes. I made a good thing out of the pageant, so we're flush now. I will design some gowns for you."

"Oh, don't bother. I can buy some things that will do."

"You must get over that idea, Jane. As my wife, you must look like something; you must have style, and charm."

"Those were not on your list of wife requirements," she said. "I cannot produce either quality."

"Oh, yes, you can. I'll put my mind on it," he said, finally, and he did.

For several days he studied her, as he studied a portrait subject. He marked her good lines, decided about her colours. He made water-colour sketches of the costumes, enjoying himself thoroughly. Jane evinced so little interest that at last he exploded about it.

"Don't you care how you look?"

"I don't, myself, but your wife will care, from this time on."

"Don't you like these things?"

"I think they're beautiful, only I can't see myself in them, somehow."

But Jerry persevered. He bought stuffs, he took them with the designs, to a skilled woman, to be carried out.

Jane went to fittings uncomplainingly, with Jerry in command, and in due time the gowns came home. He had, in the meantime, bought her hats, furs, and all the niceties of a woman's wardrobe. She protested at his lavishness, and submitted to his excellent taste. But when the final purchase was delivered, Jane said to him:

"Jerry, I thoroughly appreciate these lovely things you have given me, and I promise you to give my appearance the most careful attention. But I wish, please, that you would agree to give me a monthly allowance for my needs and desires."

"Oh, you needn't worry about money, Jane. You'll always get it when I have any. When I'm broke, we'll neither of us have any," he laughed.

"But I want to know just what I can depend on. Of course, that would be contingent upon what we have."