" began Wollaston, whose mind was in a whirl of
anger of confusion.

But the clergyman interrupted him. "I am ashamed of you, young man,"
he said, "luring an innocent young girl to New York and then trying
to lie out of your responsibility."

"I am not," began Wollaston again; but then the man who had stood in
the door entered with a portly woman in a black silk tea-gown. She
looked as if she had been dozing, or else was naturally slow-witted.
Her eyes, under heavy lids, were dull; her mouth had a sleepy,
although good-natured pout, like a child's, between her fat cheeks.

"I am sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Jerrolds," said the clergyman, "but
I need you and Williams for witnesses." Then he proceeded.

Neither Wollaston nor Maria were ever very clear in their minds how
it was done. Both had thought marriage was a more complicated
proceeding. Neither was entirely sure of having said anything.
Indeed, Wollaston was afterwards quite positive that Gladys Mann
answered nearly all the clergyman's questions; but at all events, the
first thing he heard distinctly was the clergyman's pronouncing him
and Maria man and wife. Then the clergyman, who was zealous to the
point of fanaticism, and who honestly considered himself to have done
an exceedingly commendable thing, invited them to have some
wedding-cake, which he kept ready for such emergencies, and some
coffee, but Wollaston replied with a growl of indignation and
despair. This time Maria followed his almost brutally spoken command
to follow him, and the three went out of the house.

"See that you treat your wife properly, young man," the clergyman
called out after him, in a voice half jocular, half condemnatory, "or
there will be trouble."

Wollaston growled an oath, the first which he had ever uttered, under
his breath, and strode on. He had released his hold on Maria's arm.
Ahead of them, a block distant, was an Elevated station, and Maria,
who seemed to suddenly recover her faculties, broke into a run for it.

"Where be you goin'?" called out Gladys.

"I am going down to the Jersey City station, quick," replied Maria,
in a desperate voice.

"I thought you'd go to a hotel. There ain't no harm, now you're
married, you know," said Gladys, "and then we could have some supper.
I'm awful hungry. I ain't eat a thing sence noon."

"I am going right down to the station," repeated Maria.

"The last train has went. What's the use?"

"I don't care. I'm going down there."