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 Jay took the minister aside and, from the packet of banknotes which Ellen Powell had handed him, he drew a fifty dollar bill. It was altogether too much for him to give, he knew; that he had besides, in his pockets, a couple of fives only. That was too little; and one did not ask change in a manage fee. He gave the minister the fifty. He grasped Lida's hand and led her out. He had not kissed her in the little, musty room of their marriage; he did not kiss her while on the stairs, but hand in hand with her, ran down to the door.

"Where to?" inquired the taxi driver, when they were again in the cab; and they knew that he knew they had, in the last ten minutes, been married.

"Grand Central," said Jay gaily; or apparently gaily.

Lida, his wife—for now she was his wife who sat beside him—said nothing until the cab had started.

"Why Grand Central?" she asked, then.

"Let's get away," said Jay. "Let's get on a train."

"What's the matter with getting on a boat?" his wife asked him, in her quick, cool voice.

"Boat for where?"

"Across," said Lida, coolly as before. "Europe."

"Oh."

"Nothing'll be crowded, Jay. We can get a cabin on any boat at the dock."

"We can't get passports at the dock," said Jay, and immediately refused the evasion of this excuse. "I can't manage Europe, you see, Lida."

"I can."

"I know you can," said Jay. "I know you can."

There was her money at him, already. She had not