ern Cyril
she had known. She was, therefore, all the more careful these days to
avoid a tete-a-tete with him, though she was not always successful,
particularly owing to Marie's unaccountable perverseness in so often
having letters to write or work to do, just when Billy most wanted
her to make a safe third with herself and Cyril. It was upon such an
occasion, after Marie had abruptly left them alone together, that Cyril
had observed, a little sharply:

"Billy, I wish you wouldn't say again what you said ten minutes ago when
Miss Marie was here."

"What was that?"

"A very silly reference to that old notion that you and every one else
seem to have that I am a 'woman-hater.'"

Billy's heart skipped a beat. One thought, pounded through her brain and
dinned itself into her ears--at all costs Cyril must not be allowed to
say that which she so feared; he must be saved from himself.

"Woman-hater? Why, of course you're a woman-hater," she cried merrily.
"I'm sure, I--I think it's lovely to be a woman-hater."

The man opened wide his eyes; then he frowned angrily.

"Nonsense, Billy, I know better. Besides, I'm in earnest, and I'm not a
woman-hater."

"Oh, but every one says you are," chattered Billy. "And, after all, you
know it IS distinguishing!"

With a disdainful exclamation the man sprang to his feet. For a time he
paced the room in silence, watched by Billy's fearful eyes; then he came
back and dropped into the low chair at Billy's side. His whole manner
had undergone a complete change. He was almost shamefaced as he said:

"Billy, I suppose I might as well own up. I don't think I did think much
of women until I saw--you."

Billy swallowed and wet her lips. She tried to speak; but before she
could form the words the man went on with his remarks; and Billy did not
know whether to be the more relieved or frightened thereat.

"But you see now it's different. That's why I don't like to sail any
longer under false colors. There's been a change--a great and wonderful
change that I hardly understand myself."

"That's it! You don't understand it, I'm sure," interposed Billy,
feverishly. "It may not be such a change, after all. You may be
deceiving yourself," she finished hopefully.

The man sighed.

"I can't wonder you think so, of course," he almost groaned. "I was
afraid it would be like that. When one's been painted black all one's
life, it's not easy to change one's color, of course."

"Oh, but I didn't