It was something big and serious and splendid--because Billy lived in it; something that demanded all his powers to do, and be--because Billy was watching; something that might be a Hades of torment or an Elysium of bliss--according to whether Billy said "no" or "yes." Since Thanksgiving Bertram had known that it was love--this consuming fire within him; and since Thanksgiving he had known, too, that it was jealousy--this fierce hatred of Calderwell.

He was ashamed of the hatred.

He told himself that it was unmanly, unkind, and unreasonable; and he vowed that he would overcome it.

At times he even fancied that he had overcome it; but always the sight of Calderwell in Billy's little drawing-room or of even the man's card on Billy's silver tray was enough to show him that he had not.
There were others, too, who annoyed Bertram not a little, foremost of these being his own brothers.

Still he was not really worried about William and Cyril, he told himself.