"You see," he resumed, after a moment, "there's a peculiar, elusive something about her expression--" (Billy stirred restlessly and gave her thread so savage a jerk that it broke)"-- a something that isn't easily caught by the brush.
Anderson and Fullam--big fellows, both of them--didn't catch it.

At least, I've understood that neither her family nor her friends are satisfied with _their_ portraits.

And to succeed where Anderson and Fullam failed--Jove! Billy, a chance like that doesn't come to a fellow twice in a lifetime!" Bertram was out of his chair, again, tramping up and down the little room.
Billy tossed her work aside and sprang to her feet.

Her eyes, too, were alight, now.
"But you aren't going to fail, dear," she cried, holding out both her hands.

"You're going to succeed!" Bertram caught the hands and kissed first one then the other of their soft little palms.
"Of course I am," he agreed passionately, leading her to the sofa, and seating himself at her side.
"Yes, but you must really _feel_ it," she urged; "feel the '_sure_' in yourself.