"I d-d-don't think I'd--he'd--"

"And I'd say to him: 'Julien, will you marry me?' Like that."

"Oh!" said Bobbie in outraged amazement.

"And maybe--" continued the Bonnie Lassie judicially: "maybe I'd kiss
him. Yes. I think I would."

Suddenly all the bright softness of Bobbie's large eyes dissolved in
tears. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she sobbed.

"You won't be ashamed of _yourself_," prophesied the other, "if you do
just as I say, quickly and naturally."

"Oh, naturally," retorted the girl in an indignant whimper. "I suppose
you think that's natural. Anyway, he probably doesn't care about me at
all that way."

"Roberta," said the sculptress sternly, "did you _see_ his portrait of
you?"

"Y-y-yes."

"And you have the presumption to say that he doesn't care? Why, that
picture doesn't simply tell his secret. It _yells_ it!"

"I don't care," said the hard-pressed Bobbie. "It hasn't yelled it to
me. _Nobody's_ yelled it to me. And I c-c-can't ask a m-m-man to--to--"