It was on such a day, toward the middle of the
month, that Billy was called to the telephone at
half-past twelve o'clock to speak to her husband.

``Billy, dear,'' began Bertram at once, ``if you
don't mind I'm staying to luncheon at Miss Winthrop's
kind request. We've changed the pose--
neither of us was satisfied, you know--but we
haven't quite settled on the new one. Miss
Winthrop has two whole hours this afternoon that
she can give me if I'll stay; and, of course, under
the circumstances, I want to do it.''

``Of course,'' echoed Billy. Billy's voice was
indomitably cheerful.

``Thank you, dear. I knew you'd understand,''
sighed Bertram, contentedly. ``You see, really,
two whole hours, so--it's a chance I can't afford
to lose.''

``Of course you can't,'' echoed Billy, again.

``All right then. Good-by till to-night,'' called
the man.

``Good-by,'' answered Billy, still cheerfully.
As she turned away, however, she tossed her head.
``A new pose, indeed!'' she muttered, with some
asperity. ``Just as if there could be a _new_ pose