The very young ladies laughed gayly. The rascals! They had been taking notes on all his golden utterances; yet they turned in glee to search out the rebellious questionist. The elders buzzed their horror; but they, too, squirmed about, curious to behold the cause of so inhospitable an interruption.
“Oh, never mind,” the voice boomed out patiently. “It’s a hopeless thing to ask anyone.”
She arose to go. Everyone could see the commanding figure and the perfect smile of good nature which half atoned for the rather shocking speech.
“Go on, little man,” she nodded. “You’re giving them what they want, I suppose”—waving an arm over the audience—“or what they are trained to believe they want. Perhaps they deserve it,” she laughed. “But I’m a little sorry for you”; she turned to the speaker directly, as she gathered up her belongings; “you look like the sort who could do better—with a little honest tutoring.”
“Don’t go, my dear lady, I beg of you,” Blynn called after her. Lecturers soon get used to eccentric debaters from the floor; although this one was decidedly of uncommon mould. She stopped at the door. “Please come back—let us reason together. If you don’t mind, I don’t. You can’t imagine what a great relief it is to get an interruption.”
She watched Blynn good naturedly, wavering between the desire to speak and the feeling of the futility of saying anything.
Blynn went on coaxingly.
“You stir my male curiosity deeply. All my life I have been respected and revered, treated like a special shipment of something valuable. You cannot know how lonely I have been. Why, even my students respect me.”
She wavered. Already she had dropped her muff into a rear seat.
“I can’t tell you how eager I am to be exposed,” Blynn smiled engagingly and waved a welcoming hand. “Do come back and let us dispute as did Plato and his friends; amicably, if possible, but always in the name of high truth.... You were saying, O Unknown One.”