e would ask
this, not because she doubted his honesty, but because she really wished
to see the place in which he worked. It was her workshop now, as well as
his.

For a moment her suspicions were sickening. Suppose he had romanced
about his workshop and his room? Supposed he lived somewhere in the
squalid slums of the lower East Side and his people, after all, were
alive? Perhaps a drunken father and a coarse, brutal mother--and
sisters----

She stopped with a frown and clenched her fists.

She would ask Jim to show her his workshop. That would be enough. If
he had told her the truth about that she would make up to him in tender
abandonment of utter trust for every suspicion she harbored.

The car was standing in front of her door. He waved for her to come
down.

"Jump right in!" he called gayly. "I've got an extra rubber blanket for
you."

"In the storm, Jim?" she faltered.

"Surest thing you know. It's great to fly through a storm. You can just
ride on its wings. Throw on your raincoat and come on quick! I'm going
to run down to the Beach. Who's afraid of an old storm with this thing
under us?"

Her heart gave a bound. Her longing had reached her lover and brought
him through the storm to do her bidding. It was wonderful--this oneness
of soul and body.

She was happy again--supremely, divinely happy. The man by her side knew
and understood. She knew and understood. She loved this daring spirit
that rose to the wind--this iron will that brooked no interference with
his plans, even from Nature, when it crossed his love.

The sting of the raindrops against her cheek was exhilarating. The car
glided over the swimming roadway like a great gray gull skimming the
beach at low tide. Her soul rose. The sun of a perfect faith and love
was shining now behind the clouds.

She nestled close to his side and watched him tenderly from the corners
of her half-closed eyes, her whole being content in his strength. The
idea of dashing through a blinding rain to the Beach on such a day would
have been to her mind an unthinkable piece of madness. She was proud
of his daring. It would be hers to shield from the storms of life. She
loved the rugged lines of his massive jaw in profile. How could Jane be
such a fool as to call him ugly!

The weather, of course, prevented them from walking up the Beach to
their sand-dune. The walk would have been all right--but it was out
of the question to sit down there and give her the ring