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OLD FRIENDS AND NEW.
At ten minutes before six on the afternoon of Arkwright's arrival, Billy came into the living-room to welcome the three Henshaw brothers, who, as was frequently the case, were dining at Hillside.
Bertram thought Billy had never looked prettier than she did this afternoon with the bronze sheen of her pretty house gown bringing out the bronze lights in her dark eyes and in the soft waves of her beautiful hair.

Her countenance, too, carried a peculiar something that the artist's eye was quick to detect, and that the artist's fingers tingled to put on canvas.
"Jove! Billy," he said low in her ear, as he greeted her, "I wish I had a brush in my hand this minute.

I'd have a 'Face of a Girl' that would be worth while!" Billy laughed and dimpled her appreciation; but down in her heart she was conscious of a vague unrest.

Billy wished, sometimes, that she did not so often seem to Bertram--a picture.
She turned to Cyril with outstretched hand.
"Oh, yes, Marie's coming," she smiled in answer to the quick shifting of Cyril's eyes to the hall doorway.