"Oh, I know I'll write such beautiful, beautiful songs now." The man drew her into a close embrace.
"As if I cared for that," he scoffed lovingly.
Billy looked up in quick horror.
"Why, Bertram, you don't mean you don't--care ?" He laughed lightly, and took the dismayed little face between his two hands.
"Care, darling?
of course I care! You know how I love your music.

I care about everything that concerns you.

I meant that I'm proud of you _now_--just you.

I love _you_, you know." There was a moment's pause.

Billy's eyes, as they looked at him, carried a curious intentness in their dark depths.
"You mean, you like--the turn of my head and the tilt of my chin ?" she asked a little breathlessly.
"I adore them!" came the prompt answer.
To Bertram's utter amazement, Billy drew back with a sharp cry.
"No, no--not that!" "Why, _Billy!_" Billy laughed unexpectedly; then she sighed.
"Oh, it's all right, of course," she assured him hastily.