And they'll come and stand around and stare and lift their lorgnettes and say: 'Is that the one?
Dear me!'" Bertram gave a relieved laugh.
"Nonsense, sweetheart! I should think you were a picture I'd painted and hung on a wall." "I shall feel as if I were--with all those friends of yours.

Bertram, what if they don't like it ?" Her voice had grown tragic again.
"_Like_ it!" "Yes.

The picture--me, I mean." "They can't help liking it," he retorted, with the prompt certainty of an adoring lover.
Billy shook her head.

Her eyes had gone back to the fire.
"Oh, yes, they can.

I can hear them.