Then you can come back and tell me all about it--only you must come in quietly, so not to wake the baby," she finished, giving her husband an affectionate kiss, as she left the room.
After a disconsolate five minutes of solitude, Bertram got his hat and coat and went out for his walk--but he told himself he did not expect to enjoy it.
Bertram Henshaw knew that the old rebellious jealousy of the summer had him fast in its grip.

He was heartily ashamed of himself, but he could not help it.

He wanted Billy, and he wanted her then.

He wanted to talk to her.

He wanted to tell her about a new portrait commission he had just obtained; and he wanted to ask her what she thought of the idea of a brand-new "Face of a Girl" for the Bohemian Ten Exhibition next March.
He wanted--but then, what would be the use?
She would listen, of course, but he would know by the very looks of her face that she would not be really thinking of what he was saying; and he would be willing to wager his best canvas that in the very first pause she would tell about the baby's newest tooth or latest toy.