cause she was always lying awake to find out just what time it was;
so Marie had written her about Aunt Hannah's clock. And now this Cousin
Jane has fixed _her_ clock, and she sleeps like a top, just because she
knows there'll never be but half an hour that she doesn't know what time
it is!"

Bertram smiled, and murmured a polite "Well, I'm sure that's fine!"; but
the words were plainly abstracted, and the frown had not left his brow.
Nor did it quite leave till some time later, when Billy, in answer to a
question of his about another operetta, cried, with a shudder:

"Mercy, I hope not, dear! I don't want to _hear_ the word 'operetta'
again for a year!"

Bertram smiled, then, broadly. He, too, would be quite satisfied not
to hear the word "operetta" for a year. Operetta, to Bertram, meant
interruptions, interferences, and the constant presence of Arkwright,
the Greggorys, and innumerable creatures who wished to rehearse or to
change wigs--all of which Bertram abhorred. No wonder, therefore, that
he smiled, and that the frown disappeared from his brow. He thought he
saw, ahead, serene, blissful days for Billy and himself.

As the days, however, began to pass, one by one, Bertram Henshaw found
them to be anything but serene and blissful. The operetta, with its
rehearsals and its interruptions, was gone, certainly; but he was
becoming seriously troubled about Billy.

Billy did not act natural. Sometimes she seemed like her old self; and
he breathed more freely, telling himself that his fears were groundless.
Then would come the haunting shadow to her eyes, the droop to her mouth,
and the nervousness to her manner that he so dreaded. Worse yet, all
this seemed to be connected in some strange way with Arkwright. He found
this out by accident one day. She had been talking and laughing brightly
about something, when he chanced to introduce Arkwright's name.

"By the way, where is Mary Jane these days?" he asked then.

"I don't know, I'm sure. He hasn't been here lately," murmured Billy,
reaching for a book on the table.

At a peculiar something in her voice, he had looked up quickly, only to
find, to his great surprise, that her face showed a painful flush as she
bent over the book in her hand.

He had said nothing more at the time, but he had not forgotten. Several
times, after that, he had introduced the man's name, and never had it
failed to bring a rush of color, a biting of the lip, or a quick change
of positio