“And you don't—after all, love me—just to paint?”
“Well, what is that? Is that Kate, too?” demanded Bertram, grimly.
Billy laughed.
“No—oh, she said it, all right, but, you see, everybody said that to me, Bertram; and that's what made me so—so worried sometimes when you talked about the tilt of my chin, and all that.”
“Well, by Jove!” breathed Bertram.
There was another silence. Then, suddenly, Bertram stirred.
“Billy, I'm going to marry you to-morrow,” he announced decisively.
Billy lifted her head and sat back in palpitating dismay.
“Bertram! What an absurd idea!”
“Well, I am. I don't know as I can trust you out of my sight till then! You'll read something, or hear something, or get a letter from Kate after breakfast to-morrow morning, that will set you 'saving me' again; and I don't want to be saved—that way. I'm going to marry you to-morrow. I'll get—” He stopped short, with a sudden frown. “Confound that law! I forgot. Great Scott, Billy, I'll have to trust you five days, after all! There's a new law about the license. We've got to wait five days—and maybe more, counting in the notice, and all.”