I will not not--_not_ believe that you love me--just to paint.

No matter what they say--all of them! I _will not!_" Billy put the photograph back on the table then, and went down-stairs to her guest.

She smiled brightly, though her face was a little pale.
"I wondered if perhaps you wouldn't like some music," she said pleasantly, going straight to the piano.
"Indeed I would!" agreed Mrs.Hartwell.
Billy sat down then and played--played as Mrs.Hartwell had never heard her play before.
"Why, Billy, you amaze me," she cried, when the pianist stopped and whirled about.

"I had no idea you could play like that!" Billy smiled enigmatically.

Billy was thinking that Mrs.Hartwell would, indeed, have been surprised if she had known that in that playing were herself, the ride home, the luncheon, Bertram, and the girl--whom Bertram _did not love only to paint!_.