ertram, I've seen the Grahams and the Whartons not even
speak to each other a whole evening, when they've been at a dinner, or
something; and I've seen Mrs. Carleton not even seem to know her husband
came into the room. I don't mean quarrel, dear. Of course we'd never
_quarrel!_ But I mean I'm sure we shall never get used to--to you being
you, and I being I."

"Indeed we sha'n't," agreed Bertram, rapturously.

"Ours is going to be such a beautiful marriage!"

"Of course it will be."

"And we'll be so happy!"

"I shall be, and I shall try to make you so."

"As if I could be anything else," sighed Billy, blissfully. "And now we
_can't_ have any misunderstandings, you see."

"Of course not. Er--what's that?"

"Why, I mean that--that we can't ever repeat hose miserable weeks of
misunderstanding. Everything is all explained up. I _know_, now, that
you don't love Miss Winthrop, or just girls--any girl--to paint. You
love me. Not the tilt of my chin, nor the turn of my head; but _me_."

"I do--just you." Bertram's eyes gave the caress his lips would have
given had it not been for the presence of the man in the seat across the
aisle of the sleeping-car.

"And you--you know now that I love you--just you?"

"Not even Arkwright?"

"Not even Arkwright," smiled Billy.

There was the briefest of hesitations; then, a little constrainedly,
Bertram asked:

"And you said you--you never _had_ cared for Arkwright, didn't you?"

For the second time in her life Billy was thankful that Bertram's
question had turned upon _her_ love for Arkwright, not Arkwright's love
for her. In Billy's opinion, a man's unrequited love for a girl was his
secret, not hers, and was certainly one that the girl had no right
to tell. Once before Bertram had asked her if she had ever cared for
Arkwright, and then she had answered emphatically, as she did now:

"Never, dear."

"I thought you said so," murmured Bertram, relaxing a little.

"I did; besides, didn't I tell you?" she went on airily, "I think he'll
marry Alice Greggory. Alice wrote me all the time I was away, and--oh,
she didn't say anything definite, I'll admit," confessed Billy, with
an arch smile; "but she spoke of his being there lots, and they used to
know each other years ago, you see. There was almost a romance there,
I think, before the Greggorys lost their money and moved away from all
their friends."

"Well, he may have her. She's a nice girl--a mighty nice girl," answered