(Billy was so glad Bertram had turned the question on _her_ love instead of Arkwright's!) "There has never really been any one but you." "Thank God for that," breathed Bertram, as he drew the bright head nearer and held it close.
After a minute Billy stirred and sighed happily.
"Aren't lovers the beat'em for imagining things ?" she murmured.
"They certainly are." "You see--I wasn't in love with Mr.Arkwright." "I see--I hope." "And--and you didn't care _specially_ for--for Miss Winthrop ?" "Eh?
Well, no!" exploded Bertram.

"Do you mean to say you really--" Billy put a soft finger on his lips.
"Er--'people who live in _glass houses_,' you know," she reminded him, with roguish eyes.
Bertram kissed the finger and subsided.
"Humph!" he commented.
There was a long silence; then, a little breathlessly, Billy asked: "And you don't--after all, love me--just to paint ?" "Well, what is that?
Is that Kate, too ?" demanded Bertram, grimly.
Billy laughed.
"No--oh, she said it, all right, but, you see, _everybody_ said that to me, Bertram; and that's what made me so--so worried sometimes when you talked about the tilt of my chin, and all that." "Well, by Jove!" breathed Bertram.
There was another silence.

Then, suddenly, Bertram stirred.
"Billy, I'm going to marry you to-morrow," he announced decisively.
Billy lifted her head and sat back in palpitating dismay.
"Bertram! What an absurd idea!" "Well, I am.

I don't _know_ as I can trust you out of my sight till _then!_ You'll read something, or hear something, or get a letter from Kate after breakfast to-morrow morning, that will set you 'saving me' again; and I don't want to be saved--that way.

I'm going to marry you to-morrow.