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.