and even now there are some left for to-morrow. And then there's--the
newspapers. Bertram, right away, now, _everybody_ will know it." Her
voice was tragic.

Bertram relaxed visibly. A tender light came to his eyes.

"Well, didn't you expect everybody would know it, my dear?"

"Y-yes; but--"

At her hesitation, the tender light changed to a quick fear.

"Billy, you aren't--sorry?"

The pink glory that suffused her face answered him before her words did.

"Sorry! Oh, never, Bertram! It's only that it won't be ours any
longer--that is, it won't belong to just our two selves. Everybody will
know it. And they'll bow and smile and say 'How lovely!' to our faces,
and 'Did you ever?' to our backs. Oh, no, I'm not sorry, Bertram; but I
am--afraid."

"_Afraid_--Billy!"

"Yes."

Billy sighed, and gazed with pensive eyes into the fire.

Across Bertram's face swept surprise, consternation, and dismay. Bertram
had thought he knew Billy in all her moods and fancies; but he did not
know her in this one.

"Why, Billy!" he breathed.

Billy drew another sigh. It seemed to come from the very bottoms of her
small, satin-slippered feet.

"Well, I am. You're _the_ Bertram Henshaw. You know lots and lots of
people that I never even saw. And they'll come and stand around and
stare and lift their lorgnettes and say: 'Is that the one? Dear me!'"

Bertram gave a relieved laugh.

"Nonsense, sweetheart! I should think you were a picture I'd painted and
hung on a wall."

"I shall feel as if I were--with all those friends of yours. Bertram,
what if they don't like it?" Her voice had grown tragic again.

"_Like_ it!"

"Yes. The picture--me, I mean."

"They can't help liking it," he retorted, with the prompt certainty of
an adoring lover.

Billy shook her head. Her eyes had gone back to the fire.

"Oh, yes, they can. I can hear them. 'What, _she_--Bertram Henshaw's
wife?--a frivolous, inconsequential "Billy" like that?' Bertram!"--Billy
turned fiercely despairing eyes on her lover--"Bertram, sometimes I
wish my name were 'Clarissa Cordelia,' or 'Arabella Maud,' or 'Hannah
Jane'--anything that's feminine and proper!"

Bertram's ringing laugh brought a faint smile to Billy's lips. But the
words that followed the laugh, and the caressing touch of the man's
hands sent a flood of shy color to her face.

"'Hannah Jane,' indeed! As if I'd exchange my Billy for her or any
Clarissa or Arabella that ever grew! I adore Billy--flame