There was just a bit of mystery and reserve about his career as an inventor. His first success that had given him a start he had not explained. The big deal about the new carburetor she could, of course, understand. He had a workshop all his own. He had told her this the first day they met. She would ask him to take her to see it this afternoon. The storm would prevent the trip to the Beach. She 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 in the pouring rain. She knew this as well as he. She knew, too, that he had the ring in his pocket, though he had carefully refrained from referring to it in any way.

He led her to a secluded nook behind a pillar in the little parlor. The hotel was deserted. They had the building almost to themselves. A log fire crackled in the open fireplace, and he drew a settee close. The wind had moderated and the rain was pouring down in straight streams, rolling in soft music on the roof.

He drew the ring from his pocket. "Well, Kiddo, I got it. The fellow said this was all right."

He held the tiny gold band before her shining eyes.

"Slip it on!" she whispered.

"Which one?"

"This one, silly!"

She extended her third finger, as he pressed the ring slowly on.

"Seems to me a mighty little one and a mighty cheap one, but he said it was the thing."

"It's all right, dear," she whispered. "Kiss me!"

He pressed his lips to hers and held them until she sank back and lifted her hand in warning.

"Be careful!"

"Whose afraid?" Jim muttered, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. "Now tell me what day--tomorrow?"

"Nonsense, man!" she cried. "Give me time to breathe----"

"What for?"

"Just to realize that I'm engaged--to plan and think and dream of the wonderful day."

"We're losing time----"

"We'll never live these wonderful hours over again, dear."

Jim's face fell and his voice was pitiful in its funereal notes: "Lord, I thought the ring settled it."

"And so it does, dear--it does-----"

"Not if that long-legged spider that took dinner with us the other night gets in her fine work. I'll bet that she handed me a few when you got home?"

Mary was silent.

"Now didn't she?"

"To the best of her ability--yes--but I didn't mind her silly talk."

"Gee, but I'd love to give her a bouquet of poison ivy!"

"We had an awful quarrel----"

"And you stood up for me?"

"You know I did!"

"All right, I don't give a tinker's damn what anybody says if you stand by me! In all this world there's just you--for me. There's never been anybody else--and there never will be. I'm that kind."

"And I love you for it!" she cried, with rapture pressing his hand in both of hers.

"What did she say about me, anyhow?"

"Nothing worth repeating. I've forgotten it."

Jim held her gaze.

"It's funny how you love anybody the minute you lay eyes on 'em--or hate 'em the same way. I wanted to choke her the minute she opened her yap to me."

"Forget it, dear," she broke in briskly. "I want you to take me to see your workshop tomorrow--will you?"

A flash of suspicion shot from the depths of his eyes.

"Did she tell you to ask me that?"

"Of course not! I'm just interested in everything you do. I want to see where you work."