Before Katherine was really aware, she found herself being escorted upstairs to his wife's sitting-room by Francis Ronald himself.
Burning logs were glowing on the open hearth, the place was warm and bright, and fragrant with hothouse blooms. Claire Ronald, looking like a delicate flower, of a very human variety, rose from her low chair before the fire, to greet her guest, and from that moment Katherine's constraint was gone.
She told of her plan, and the Ronalds were interested from the first.
"I think it's a capital idea, don't you, Frank?" Claire cried, in her quick, impulsive way.
"There is something in it, no doubt," he admitted cautiously, smiling down at her with very different eyes from those Katherine had dreaded. "But I don't think much could be accomplished by one lecture. If these people are to get anything, they've got to get it in good doses, 'repeat when necessary.' You can't be sure you've made your point, until you've hammered it in, given it what the journalists call 'a punch.' This can only be done by repetition, emphasis. But a course of lectures—with lantern-slides—a course extending through the winter—that would be a great scheme, I think."
Katherine's face fell. "We could never hope to have a course," she mourned.
"Why not?"
"The expense. Think what the cost would be!"
"It would be cheaper, in proportion, than one."
"In proportion, yes. But I doubt if we could raise the money for one, much less the course."