"Why, Bertram,
you'll be my brother then--my real brother; and one of the very chiefest
things I'm anticipating when I go there to live is the good times you
and I will have together when I'm William's wife!"
Bertram drew in his breath audibly, and caught his lower lip between
his teeth. With an abrupt movement he turned his back and walked to
the window. For a full minute he stayed there, watched by the amazed,
displeased eyes of the girl. When he came back he sat down quietly in
the chair facing Billy. His countenance was grave and his eyes were a
little troubled; but the haggard look of misery was quite gone.
"Billy," he began gently, "you must forgive my saying this, but--are you
quite sure you--love William?"
Billy flushed with anger.
"You have no right to ask such a question. Of course I love William."
"Of course you do--we all love William. William is, in fact, a most
lovable man. But William's wife should, perhaps, love him a little
differently from--all of us."
"And she will, certainly," retorted the girl, with a quick lifting of
her chin. "Bertram, I don't think you have any right to--to make such
insinuations."
"And I won't make them any more," replied Bertram, gravely. "I just
wanted you to make sure that you--knew."
"I shall make sure, and I shall know," said Billy, firmly--so firmly
that it sounded almost as if she were trying to convince herself as well
as others.
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