"Only think how dreadfully upsetting I was in the first place!" William's beaming face grew a little stern.
"Nobody knew it but Kate--and she didn't _know_ it; she only imagined it," he said tersely.
Billy shook her head.
"I'm not so sure," she demurred.

"As I look back at it now, I think I can discern a few evidences myself--that I was upsetting.

I was a bother to Bertram in his painting, I am sure." "You were an inspiration," corrected Bertram.

"Think of the posing you did for me." A swift something like a shadow crossed Billy's face; but before her lover could question its meaning, it was gone.
"And I know I was a torment to Cyril." Billy had turned to the musician now.
"Well, I admit you were a little--upsetting, at times," retorted that individual, with something of his old imperturbable rudeness.
"Nonsense!" cut in William, sharply.

"You were never anything but a comfort in the house, Billy, my dear--and you never will be." "Thank you," murmured Billy, demurely.