A look that was almost terror came to her eyes.
She pulled herself half away from Bertram's encircling arm.
"Why, Billy," cried the man, in pained surprise.

"You don't mean to say you're _sorry_ I'm going to paint again!" "No, no! Oh, no, Bertram--never that!" she faltered, still regarding him with fearful eyes.

"It's only--for _me_, you know.

I _can't_ go back now, and not have you--after this!--even if I do hinder you, and--" "_Hinder me!_ What are you talking about, Billy ?" Billy drew a quivering sigh.
"Well, to begin with, Kate said--" "Good heavens! Is Kate in _this_, too ?" Bertram's voice was savage now.
"Well, she wrote a letter." "I'll warrant she did! Great Scott, Billy! Don't you know Kate by this time ?" "Y-yes, I said so, too.

But, Bertram, what she wrote was true.