It can't be!"
"But it is, dear. I think I have loved you ever since that night long
ago when I saw your dear, startled face appealing to me from beyond
Seaver's hateful smile. And, Billy, I never went once with Seaver
again--anywhere. Did you know that?"
"No; but--I'm glad--so glad!"
"And I'm glad, too. So you see, I must have loved you then, though
unconsciously, perhaps; and I love you now."
"No, no, please don't say that. It can't be--it really can't be. I--I
don't love you--that way, Bertram."
The man paled a little.
"Billy--forgive me for asking, but it's so much to me--is it that there
is--some one else?" His voice shook.
"No, no, indeed! There is no one."
"It's not--Calderwell?"
Billy's forehead grew pink. She laughed nervously.
"No, no, never!"
"But there are others, so many others!"
"Nonsense, Bertram; there's no one--no one, I assure you!"
"It's not William, of course, nor Cyril. Cyril hates women."
A deeper flush came to Billy's face. Her chin rose a little; and an odd
defiance flashed from her eyes. But almost instantly it was gone, and a
slow smile had come to her lips.
"Yes, I know. Every one--says that Cyril hates women," she observed
demurely.
"Then, Billy, I sha'n't give up!" vowed Bertram, softly. "Sometime you
WILL love me!"
"No, no, I couldn't. That is, I'm not going to--to marry," stammered
Billy.
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