Assuming　a　look　of　absorbed　interest　she　twitched
  the　book　open　and　held　it　before　her　face。　。　。　。
  But　the　step　passed　by　the　door：　and　Billy　saw
  then　that　her　book　was　upside　down。
  Five；　ten；　fifteen　more　minutes　passed。　　Billy
  still　sat；　apparently　reading；　though　she　had　not
  turned　a　page。　　The　book　now；　however；　was
  right　side　up。　　One　by　one　other　minutes　passed
  till　the　great　clock　in　the　hall　struck　nine　long
  strokes。
  ‘‘Well；　well；　bless　my　soul！''　mumbled　Uncle
  William；　resolutely　forcing　himself　to　wake　up。
  ‘‘What　time　was　that？''
  ‘‘Nine　o'clock。''　　Billy　spoke　with　tragic
  distinctness；　yet　very　cheerfully。
  ‘‘Eh？　　Only　nine？''　blinked　Uncle　William。
  ‘‘I　thought　it　must　be　ten。　　Well；　anyhow；　I
  believe　I'll　go　up…stairs。　　I　seem　to　be　unusually
  sleepy。''
  Billy　said　nothing。　　‘‘　‘Only　nine；'　indeed！''
  she　was　thinking　wrathfully。
  At　the　door　Uncle　William　turned。
  ‘‘You're　not　going　to　sit　up；　my　dear；　of
  course；''　he　remarked。
  For　the　second　time　that　evening　a　cold　hand
  seemed　to　clutch　Billy's　heart。
  _Sit　up！_　　Had　it　come　already　to　that？　　Was
  she　even　now　a　wife　who　had　need　to　_sit　up_　for
  her　husband？
  ‘‘I　really　wouldn't；　my　dear；''　advised　Uncle
  William　again。　　‘‘Good　night。''
  ‘‘Oh；　but　I'm　not　sleepy　at　all；　yet；''　Billy
  managed　to　declare　brightly。　　‘‘Good　night。''
  Then　Uncle　William　went　up…stairs。
  Billy　turned　to　her　book；　which　happened　to
  be　one　of　William's　on　‘‘Fake　Antiques。''
  ‘‘　‘To　collect　anything；　these　days；　requires
  expert　knowledge；　and　the　utmost　care　and
  discrimination；'　''　read　Billy's　eyes。　　‘‘So　Uncle
  William　_expected_　Bertram　was　going　to　spend　the
  whole　evening　as　well　as　stay　to　dinner！''　ran
  Billy's　thoughts。　　‘‘　‘The　enormous　quantity　of
  bijouterie；　Dresden　and　Battersea　enamel　ware
  that　is　now　flooding　the　market；　is　made　on　the
  Continentand　made　chiefly　for　the　American
  trade；'　''　continued　the　book。
  ‘‘Well；　who　cares　if　it　is；''　snapped　Billy；　springing
  to　her　feet　and　tossing　the　volume　aside。
  ‘‘Spunkie；　come　here！　　You've　simply　got　to
  play　with　me。　　Do　you　hear？　　I　want　to　be　gay
  _gay_GAY！　　He's　gay。　　He's　down　there　with
  those　men；　where　he　wants　to　be。　　Where　he'd
  _rather_　be　than　be　with　me！　　Do　you　think　I　want
  him　to　come　home　and　find　me　moping　over　a
  stupid　old　book？　　Not　much！　　I'm　going　to　have
  him　find　me　gay；　too。　　Now；　come；　Spunkie；
  hurrywake　up！　　He'll　be　here　right　away；　I'm
  sure。''　　And　Billy　shook　a　pair　of　worsted　reins；
  hung　with　little　soft　balls；　full　in　Spunkie's　face。
  But　Spunkie　would　not　wake　up；　and　Spunkie
  would　not　play。　　She　pretended　to。　　She　bit　at
  the　reins；　and　sank　her　sharp　claws　into　the
  dangling　balls。　　For　a　fleeting　instant；　even；
  something　like　mischief　gleamed　in　her　big　yellow　eyes。
  Then　the　jaws　relaxed；　the　paws　turned　to　velvet；
  and　Spunkie's　sleek　gray　head　settled　slowly　back
  into　lazy　comfort。　　Spunkie　was　asleep。
  Billy　gazed　at　the　cat　with　reproachful　eyes。
  ‘‘And　you；　too；　Spunkie；''　she　murmured。
  Then　she　got　to　her　feet　and　went　back　to　her
  chair。　　This　time　she　picked　up　a　magazine　and
  began　to　turn　the　leaves　very　fast；　one　after　another。
  Half…past　nine　came；　then　ten。　　Pete　appeared
  at　the　door　to　get　Spunkie；　and　to　see　that　everything
  was　all　right　for　the　night。
  ‘‘Mr。　Bertram　is　not　in　yet？''　he　began　doubtfully。
  Billy　shook　her　head　with　a　bright　smile。
  ‘‘No；　Pete。　　Go　to　bed。　　I　expect　him　every
  minute。　　Good　night。''
  ‘‘Thank　you；　ma'am。　　Good　night。''
  The　old　man　picked　up　the　sleepy　cat　and　went
  down…stairs。　　A　little　later　Billy　heard　his　quiet
  steps　coming　back　through　the　hall　and　ascending
  the　stairs。　　She　listened　until　from　away　at　the
  top　of　the　house　she　heard　his　door　close。　　Then
  she　drew　a　long　breath。
  Ten　o'clockafter　ten　o'clock；　and　Bertram
  not　there　yet！　　And　was　this　what　he　called　dinner？
  Did　one　eat；　then；　till　ten　o'clock；　when　one
  dined　with　one's　friends？
  Billy　was　angry　nowvery　angry。　　She　was
  too　angry　to　be　reasonable。　　This　thing　that　her
  husband　had　done　seemed　monstrous　to　her；
  smarting；　as　she　was；　under　the　sting　of　hurt
  pride　and　grieved　lonelinessthe　state　of　mind
  into　which　she　had　worked　herself。　　No　longer
  now　did　she　wish　to　be　gay　when　her　husband
  came。　　No　longer　did　she　even　pretend　to　assume
  indifference。　　Bertram　had　done　wrong。　　He　had
  been　unkind；　cruel；　thoughtless；　inconsiderate　of
  her　comfort　and　happiness。　　Furthermore　he　_did
  not_　love　her　as　well　as　she　did　him　or　he　never；
  never　could　have　done　it！　　She　would　let　him　see；
  when　he　came；　just　how　hurt　and　grieved　she　was
  and　how　disappointed；　too。
  Billy　was　walking　the　floor　now；　back　and　forth；
  back　and　forth。
  Half…past　ten　came；　then　eleven。　　As　the　eleven
  long　strokes　reverberated　through　the　silent
  house　Billy　drew　in　her　breath　and　held　it　suspended。
  A　new　look　came　to　her　eyes。　　A　growing
  terror　crept　into　them　and　culminated　in　a
  frightened　stare　at　the　clock。
  Billy　ran　then　to　the　great　outer　door　and　pulled
  it　open。　　A　cold　wind　stung　her　face；　and　caused
  her　to　shut　the　door　quickly。　　Back　and　forth　she
  began　to　pace　the　floor　again；　but　in　five　minutes
  she　had　run　to　the　door　once　more。　　This　time
  she　wore　a　heavy　coat　of　Bertram's　which　she
  caught　up　as　she　passed　the　hall…rack。
  Out　on　to　the　broad　top　step　Billy　hurried；　and
  peered　down　the　street。　　As　far　as　she　could　see
  not　a　person　was　in　sight。　　Across　the　street　in
  the　Public　Garden　the　wind　stirred　the　gray
  tree…branches　and　set　them　to　casting　weird
  shadows　on　the　bare；　frozen　ground。　　A　warning
  something　behind　her　sent　Billy　scurrying　into
  the　house　just　in　time　to　prevent　the　heavy　door's
  closing　and　shutting　her　out；　keyless；　in　the　cold。
  Half…past　eleven　came；　and　again　Billy　ran　to
  the　door。　　This　time　she　put　the　floor…mat　against
  the　casing　so　that　the　door　could　not　close。　　Once
  more　she　peered　wildly　up　and　down　the　street；
  and　across　into　the　deserted；　wind…swept　Garden。
  There　was　only　terror　now　in　Billy's　face。　　The
  anger　was　all　gone。　　In　Billy's　mind　there　was　not
  a　shadow　of　doubtsomething　had　happened　to
  Bertram。
  Bertram　was　illhurtdead！　　And　he　was
  so　good；　so　kind；　so　noble；　such　a　dear；　dear
  husband！　　If　only　she　could　see　him　once。　　If　only
  she　could　ask　his　forgiveness　for　those　wicked；
  unkind；　accusing　thoughts。　　If　only　she　could
  tell　him　again　that　she　did　love　him。　　If　only
  Far　down　the　street　a　step　rang　sharply　on　the
  frosty　air。　　A　masculine　figure　was　hurrying　toward
  the　house。　　Retreating　well　into　the　shadow　of　the
  doorway；　Billy　watched　it；　her　heart　pounding
  against　her　side　in　great　suffocating　throbs。
  Nearer　and　nearer　strode　the　approaching　figure
  until　Billy　had　almost　sprung　to　meet　it　with　a
  glad　cryalmost；　but　not　quite；　for　the　figure
  neither　turned　nor　paused；　but　marched　straight
  onand　Billy　saw　then；　under　the　arc　light；　a
  brown…bearded　man　who　was　not　Bertram　at　all。
  Three　times　during　the　next　few　minutes　did
  the　waiting　little　bride　on　the　doorstep　watch
  with　palpitating　yearning　a　shadowy　form　appear；
  approachand　pass　by。　　At　the　third
  heart…breaking　disappointment；　Billy　wrung　her
  hands　helplessly。
  ‘‘I　don't　see　how　there　can　beso　many
  utterly　_useless_　people　in　the　world！''　she　choked。
  Then；　thoroughly　chilled　and　sick　at　heart；　she
  went　into　the　house　and　closed　the　door。
  Once　again；　back　and　forth；　back　and　forth；
  Billy　took　up　her　weary　vigil。　　She　still　wore　the
  heavy　coat。　　She　had　forgotten　to　take　it　off。
  Her　face　was　pitifully　white　and　drawn。　　Her
  eyes　were　wild。　　One　of　her　hands　was　nervously
  caressing　the　rough　sleeve　of　the　coat　as　it　hung
  from　her　shoulder。
  Onetwothree
  Billy　gave　a　sharp　cry　and　ran　into　the　hall。
  Yes；　it　was　twelve　o'clock。　　And　now；　always；
  all　the　rest　of　the　dreary；　useless　hours　that　that
  clock　would　tick　away　through　an　endless　existence；
  she　would　have　to　livewithout　Bertram。
  If　only　she　could　see　him　once　more！　　But　she
  could　not。　　He　was　dead。　　He　must　be　dead；　now。
  Here　it　was　twelve　o'clock；　and
  There　came　a　quick　step；　the　click　of　a　key　in
  the　lock；　then　the　door　swung　back　and　Bertram；
  big；　strong；　and　merry…eyed；　stood　before　her。
  ‘‘Well；　well；　hullo；''　he　called　jovially。　　Why；
  Billy；　what's　the　matter？''　he　broke　off；　in　quite
  a　different　tone　of　voice。
  And　then　a　curious　thing　happened。　　Billy；
  who；　a　minute　before；　had　been　seeing　only　a　dear；
  noble；　adorable；　_lost_　Bertram；　saw　now　suddenly
  only　the　man　that　had　stayed　_happily_　till　midnight
  with　two　friends；　while　sheshe
  ‘‘Matter！　　Matter！''　exclaimed　Billy　sharply；
  then。　　‘‘Is　this　what　you　call　staying　to　dinner；
  Bertram　Henshaw？''
  Bertram