``You mean, you like--the turn of my head
and the tilt of my chin?'' she asked a little breathlessly.

``I adore them!'' came the prompt answer.

To Bertram's utter amazement, Billy drew
back with a sharp cry.

``No, no--not that!''

``Why, _Billy!_''

Billy laughed unexpectedly; then she sighed.

``Oh, it's all right, of course,'' she assured
him hastily. ``It's only--'' Billy stopped and
blushed. Billy was thinking of what Hugh Calderwell
had once said to her: that Bertram Henshaw
would never love any girl seriously; that it would
always be the turn of her head or the tilt of her
chin that he loved--to paint.

``Well; only what?'' demanded Bertram.

Billy blushed the more deeply, but she gave a
light laugh.

``Nothing, only something Hugh Calderwell
said to me once. You see, Bertram, I don't