His clever, good-tempered face—a face that inspired confidence in most people—betrayed embarrassment, distress, perplexity; his silence infuriated Winnie.
“Answer me!” she ejaculated in an imperative whisper, emphasized by a stamp of her foot.
“No, I do not,” he said slowly. “I never will. But the case is very black against him, and there’s a lot of excuse for the people who do think it.”
She gave a little sigh of relief.
“I’m glad you don’t, anyhow; for if you did I’d never willingly speak to you again.”
Austin rose, and stood beside her, looking down earnestly at her charming, animated face.
“I’d give my right hand, I’d give ten years of my life at its best—Winnie, I’d give everything dearest to me in the world except the hope of winning you—to be able to clear Roger Carling from this charge,” he said slowly.
For weeks, for months she had known in her heart that Austin Starr loved her, had known too that she loved him, but never before had he spoken like this, never had there been any sentimental passages between them, only a beautiful frank friendship, that after all is the very best foundation on which a man and a woman can build the love that lasts!
And now—though how it came about neither of them could have said—her hands were in his, he drew her, unresisting to his arms, and their lips met for the first time.
A wonderful moment for them both, when, without another word, he knew his hope was fulfilled—that he had already won her. It was excusable that, for a few moments, they almost forgot those other hapless lovers, their nearest friends, now so tragically parted. Yet they soon remembered and resumed counsel, with just one little difference that meant a lot to them—that whereas before they had sat facing each other, one each side the fire-place, they were now side by side.