Didn't you hear the gong ?" "Yes, I'm coming, Uncle William." Billy spoke with breezy gayety, and threw open the door; but she did not meet Uncle William's eyes.

Her head was turned away.

Her hands were fussing with the hang of her skirt.
"Bertram's dining out, Pete tells me," observed William, with cheerful nonchalance, as they went down-stairs together.
Billy bit her lip and looked up sharply.

She had been bracing herself to meet with disdainful indifference this man's pity--the pity due a poor neglected wife whose husband _preferred_ to dine with old classmates rather than with herself.

Now she found in William's face, not pity, but a calm, even jovial, acceptance of the situation as a matter of course.
She had known she was going to hate that pity; but now, curiously enough, she was conscious only of anger that the pity was not there--that she might hate it.
She tossed her head a little.