I don't mean quarrel, dear. Of course we'd never
_quarrel!_ But I mean I'm sure we shall never
get used to--to you being you, and I being I.''

``Indeed we sha'n't,'' agreed Bertram, rapturously.

``Ours is going to be such a beautiful marriage!''

``Of course it will be.''

``And we'll be so happy!''

``I shall be, and I shall try to make you so.''

``As if I could be anything else,'' sighed Billy,
blissfully. ``And now we _can't_ have any
misunderstandings, you see.''

``Of course not. Er--what's that?''

``Why, I mean that--that we can't ever repeat
hose miserable weeks of misunderstanding.
Everything is all explained up. I _know_, now,
that you don't love Miss Winthrop, or just girls
--any girl--to paint. You love me. Not the
tilt of my chin, nor the turn of my head; but
_me_.''

``I do--just you.'' Bertram's eyes gave the
caress his lips would have given had it not been