She could not withstand that look.

“Well,” she compromised, “I’ll not let you write yourself, that’s certain⁠—but could you not dictate to me?”

Jack brightened, and caught her hand to his lips.

“Miss Betty, you are an angel!” he told her.

“Ah now, get along with you!” She hurried away to fetch paper and ink.

When she returned she found him plucking impatiently at the sheet, and frowning.

“I am ready,” she said.

“Thank you, madam. ’Tis very kind in you⁠—”

“Nonsense!”

He laughed weakly.