“I've not guessed—I know. And—it's all right.”
“You mean—?” Only Cyril's pleading eyes finished the question.
“Yes, I'm sure she does,” nodded Billy. And then she added under her breath as the man passed swiftly down the steps: “'Marie Henshaw' indeed! So 'twas Cyril all the time—and never Bertram—who was the inspiration of that bit of paper give-away!”
When she turned back into the room she came face to face with Bertram.
“I spoke, dear, but you didn't hear,” he said, as he hurried forward with outstretched hands.
“Bertram,” greeted Billy, with surprising irrelevance, “'and they all lived happily ever after'—they DID! Isn't that always the ending to the story—a love story?”
“Of course,” said Bertram with emphasis;—“OUR love story!”
“And theirs,” supplemented Billy, softly; but Bertram did not hear that.