“The twelfth;—that is, there'll be a—pause, then.”
“Well, I'm thankful if—eh?” broke off the man, with a sudden change of manner. “What do you mean by 'a pause'?”
Billy cast down her eyes demurely.
“Well, of course this ends the twelfth with Marie's wedding; but I've sort of regarded it as an—understudy for one that's coming next October, you see.”
“Billy, you darling!” breathed a supremely happy voice in a shell-like ear—Billy was not at arm's length now.
Billy smiled, but she drew away with gentle firmness.
“And now I must go back to my sewing,” she said.
Bertram's arms did not loosen. His eyes had grown mutinous again.
“That is,” she amended, “I must be practising my part of—the understudy, you know.”
“You darling!” breathed Bertram again; this time, however, he let her go.