"They're all spread out for your inspection." "A new 'Face of a Girl' ?" "Of course--yards of them!" "And heaps of 'Old Blues' and 'black basalts' ?" she questioned, turning to William.
"Well, a--few," hesitated William, modestly.
"And--the music; what of that ?" Billy looked now at Cyril.
"You'll see," he shrugged.

"There's very little, after all--of anything." Billy gave a wise shake of her head.
"I know better; and I want to see it all so much.

We've talked and talked of it; haven't we, Aunt Hannah ?--of what we would do when we got to Boston ?" "Yes, my dear; YOU have." The girl laughed.
"I accept the amendment," she retorted with mock submission.

"I suppose it is always I who talk." "It was--when I painted you," teased Bertram.

"By the way, I'll LET you talk if you'll pose again for me," he finished eagerly.
Billy uptilted her nose.
"Do you think, sir, you deserve it, after that speech ?" she demanded.
"But how about YOUR art--your music ?" entreated William.