``But, Mr. Arkwright, Bertram is--is--''
Billy had moistened her lips, and plunged hurriedly
in to prevent Arkwright's next words. But again
was she unable to finish her sentence, and again
was she forced to listen to a very different
completion from the smiling lips of the man at her
side.

``Is an artist, of course,'' said Arkwright.
``That's what Calderwell declared--that it
would always be the tilt of a chin or the curve
of a cheek that the artist loved--to paint.''

Billy drew back suddenly. Her face paled.
As if _now_ she could tell this man that Bertram
Henshaw was engaged to her! He would find it
out soon, of course, for himself; and perhaps he,
like Hugh Calderwell, would think it was the
curve of _her_ cheek, or the tilt of _her_ chin--

Billy lifted her chin very defiantly now as she
held out her hand in good-by.



CHAPTER IX

A RUG, A PICTURE, AND A GIRL AFRAID