Cyril, according to Bertram, 'hates women and all other confusion,' so that ought to let him out.

As for Bertram himself--Bertram is 'only Bertram.' He's always been that.

Bertram loves girls--to paint; but I can't imagine him making serious love to any one.
It would always be the tilt of a chin or the turn of a cheek that he was admiring--to paint.

No, there's no chance for a romance there, I'll warrant." "But there's--yourself." Calderwell's eyebrows rose the fraction of an inch.
"Oh, of course.

I presume January or February will find me back there," he admitted with a sigh and a shrug.