al crowning of
her Cause with victory, had given happy consent.

Bertram was to come up in the evening, and Billy was anticipating that,
too, particularly: it had been so long since they had known a really
free, comfortable evening together, with nothing to interrupt.
Doubtless, too, after Arkwright's visit of the afternoon, she would be
in a position to tell Bertram the story of the suspended romance between
Arkwright and Miss Greggory, and perhaps something, also, of her own
efforts to bring the couple together again. On the whole, life did,
indeed, look decidedly worth the living as Billy, with a contented sigh,
turned over to go to sleep.

CHAPTER XXVI. ARKWRIGHT TELLS ANOTHER STORY

Promptly at the suggested hour on the day after the operetta, Arkwright
rang Billy Neilson's doorbell. Promptly, too, Billy herself came into
the living-room to greet him.

Billy was in white to-day--a soft, creamy white wool with a touch of
black velvet at her throat and in her hair. The man thought she had
never looked so lovely: Arkwright was still under the spell wrought by
the soft radiance of Billy's face the two times he had mentioned his
"story."

Until the night before the operetta Arkwright had been more than
doubtful of the way that story would be received, should he ever
summon the courage to tell it. Since then his fears had been changed to
rapturous hopes. It was very eagerly, therefore, that he turned now to
greet Billy as she came into the room.

"Suppose we don't have any music to-day. Suppose we give the whole time
up to the story," she smiled brightly, as she held out her hand.

Arkwright's heart leaped; but almost at once it throbbed with a vague
uneasiness. He would have preferred to see her blush and be a little shy
over that story. Still--there was a chance, of course, that she did not
know what the story was. But if that were the case, what of the radiance
in her face? What of--Finding himself in a tangled labyrinth that led
apparently only to disappointment and disaster, Arkwright pulled himself
up with a firm hand.

"You are very kind," he murmured, as he relinquished her fingers and
seated himself near her. "You are sure, then, that you wish to hear the
story?"

"Very sure," smiled Billy.

Arkwright hesitated. Again he longed to see a little embarrassment in
the bright face opposite. Suddenly it came to him, however, that if
Billy knew what he was about to say, it would manifestly not be h