Miss Wynn was compelled to depart with little enlightenment.
On the way up town she concluded that there was but one chance of success: she must write Alwyn’s speech. With characteristic decision she began her plans at once.
“What will you say in your speech?” she asked him that night as he rose to go.
He looked at her and she wavered slightly under his black eyes. The fight was becoming a little too desperate even for her steady nerves.
“You would not like me to act dishonestly, would you?” he asked.
“No,” she involuntarily replied, regretting the word the moment she had uttered it. He gave her one of his rare sweet smiles, and, rising, before she realized his intent, he had kissed her hands and was gone.
She asked herself why she had been so foolish; and yet, somehow, sitting there alone in the firelight, she felt glad for once that she had risen above intrigue.
Then she sighed and smiled, and began to plot anew. Teerswell dropped in later and brought his friend, Stillings. They found their hostess gay and entertaining.
Miss Wynn gathered books about her, and in the days of April and May she and Alwyn read up on education. He marvelled at the subtlety of