Her eyes were troubled.
Not since Billy's engagement had she heard Billy play like that.
Bertram did not find a pensive Billy awaiting him that evening.

He found a bright-eyed, flushed-cheeked Billy, who let herself be kissed--once--but who did not kiss back; a blithe, elusive Billy, who played tripping little melodies, and sang jolly little songs, instead of sitting before the fire and talking; a Billy who at last turned, and asked tranquilly: "Well, how did the picture go ?" Bertram rose then, crossed the room, and took Billy very gently into his arms.
"Sweetheart, you were a dear this noon to let me off like that," he began in a voice shaken with emotion.

"You don't know, perhaps, exactly what you did.

You see, I was nearly wild between wanting to be with you, and wanting to go on with my work.

And I was just at that point where one little word from you, one hint that you wanted me to come anyway--and I should have come.