A prompt denial of his implication was on her lips when the thought came to her that perhaps just here lay a sure way to prove to this man before her that there was, indeed, no need for him to teach her, to save her, or yet to sympathize with her.

She could not affirm, of course; but she need not deny--yet.
"Nonsense!" she laughed lightly, pleased that she could feel what she hoped would pass for a telltale color burning her cheeks.

"Come, let us try some duets," she proposed, leading the way to the piano.

And Arkwright, interpreting the apparently embarrassed change of subject exactly as she had hoped that he would interpret it, followed her, sick at heart.
"'O wert thou in the cauld blast,'" sang Arkwright's lips a few moments later.
"I can't tell her now--when I _know_ she cares for Calderwell," gloomily ran his thoughts, the while.

"It would do no possible good, and would only make her unhappy to grieve me." "'O wert thou in the cauld blast,'" chimed in Alice's alto, low and sweet.
"I reckon now he won't be staying away from here any more just to _save_ me!" ran Alice's thoughts, palpitatingly triumphant..