_That_ was _my_ 'matter of course,' you see," he went on bitterly.

"I knew you were Mr.William Henshaw's namesake, and Calderwell had told me the story of your coming to them when you were left alone in the world.
Calderwell had said, too, that--" Arkwright paused, then hurried on a little constrainedly--"well, he said something that led me to think Mr.
Bertram Henshaw was not a marrying man, anyway." Billy winced and changed color.

She had noticed the pause, and she knew very well what it was that Calderwell had said to occasion that pause.
Must _always_ she be reminded that no one expected Bertram Henshaw to love any girl--except to paint?
"But--but Mr.Calderwell must know about the engagement--now," she stammered.
"Very likely, but I have not happened to hear from him since my arrival in Boston.

We do not correspond." There was a long silence, then Arkwright spoke again.
"I think I understand now--many things.

I wonder I did not see them before; but I never thought of Bertram Henshaw's being--If Calderwell hadn't said--" Again Arkwright stopped with his sentence half complete, and again Billy winced.