So just let's--drop it, please, dear," he finished, his face working with emotion.
And Billy dropped it--so far as words were concerned; but she could not drop it from her thoughts--specially after Kate's letter came.
Kate's letter was addressed to Billy, and it said, after speaking of various other matters: "And now about poor Bertram's failure." (Billy frowned.

In Billy's presence no one was allowed to say "Bertram's failure"; but a letter has a most annoying privilege of saying what it pleases without let or hindrance, unless one tears it up--and a letter destroyed unread remains always such a tantalizing mystery of possibilities! So Billy let the letter talk.) "Of course we have heard of it away out here.

I do wish if Bertram _must_ paint such famous people, he would manage to flatter them up--in the painting, I mean, of course--enough so that it might pass for a success! "The technical part of all this criticism I don't pretend to understand in the least; but from what I hear and read, he must, indeed, have made a terrible mess of it, and of course I'm very sorry--and some surprised, too, for usually he paints such pretty pictures! "Still, on the other hand, Billy, I'm not surprised.

William says that Bertram has been completely out of fix over something, and as gloomy as an owl, for weeks past; and of course, under those circumstances, the poor boy could not be expected to do good work.

Now William, being a man, is not supposed to understand what the trouble is.