When Alwyn accompanied her home that night, Miss Wynn set herself to know him better for she suspected that he might be a coming man.
The best preliminary to her purpose was, she knew, to speak frankly of herself, and that she did. She told him of her youth and training, her ambitions, her disappointments. Quite unconsciously her cynicism crept to the fore, until in word and tone she had almost scoffed at many things that Alwyn held true and dear.
The touch was too light, the meaning too elusive, for Alwyn to grasp always the point of attack; but somehow he got the distant impression that Miss Wynn had little faith in Truth and Goodness and Love. Vaguely shocked he grew so silent that she noticed it and concluded she had said too much. But he pursued the subject.
“Surely there must be many friends of our race willing to stand for the right and sacrifice for it?”
She laughed unpleasantly, almost mockingly.
“Where?”
‚ÄúWell‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere‚Äôs Miss Smith.‚Äù
“She gets a salary, doesn’t she?”
“A very small one.”
“About as large as she could earn. North, I don’t doubt.”
‚ÄúBut the unselfish work she does‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe utter sacrifice?‚Äù
“Oh, well, we’ll omit Alabama, and admit the exception.”
‚ÄúWell, here, in Washington‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere‚Äôs your friend, the Judge, who has befriended you so, as you admit.‚Äù