to tell you, perhaps more than was
right. I went into this business of my own free will and there have come
complications that I did not foresee, but I am not justified in trying
to free myself at the expense of another. I am telling you the truth so
far as I know it. It isn't for me to make inferences."

The interview, so far as its object was concerned, was ended. Uncle Sid
rose stiffly and took the girl's hand in his own.

"I'm afraid that you've made mistakes, lassie, but so have the rest of
us. You've got stuff in you worth savin', an' we're goin' to stand by
you."

Winston also rose. As Helen placed her hand in his, he said:

"Uncle Sid has spoken for me too, Helen." He held her hand for a moment
only, but there was, in the clasp of it, that which went straight to her
heart. She did not dare to look in his eyes. She had told him the truth
as she knew it, but not as she suspected it. How much more could she
have known if she would; how much more ought she to have known? She had
not until now, seen clearly where her course was bound to lead if
followed to the end. Had she wilfully declined to see? She was going
over her past, analyzing it clearly, logically, unsparing of herself.
Even yet she could not understand the subtle influence with which Elijah
had surrounded her, but at last her eyes were open to its danger. She
had given admiration, sympathy, her best to help him, her warm but
disquieting friendship. Here she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide open,
her face scarlet, her heart throbbing in an agony of pain and shame. The
parting pressure of Ralph's hand came to her, the eager look of sympathy
which she had felt but not seen. She longed to hear his voice again, to
feel the touch of his hand in her own. Slowly she raised her head. Her
face was pale and set. Her sins were upon her; the sins of innocence,
but the burden was none the lighter for that; yet she would bear it
alone and in silence.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was late in the afternoon of the same day when Elijah came to the
office. There was the old rush and swing in his motions, but there was
also a tense, restless light in his eyes that told of a mind not at
peace with itself; of a mind still determined, but lacking the old time
confidence. He returned Helen's greeting effusively, but his manner was
forced, not spontaneous. He went to his desk and began nervously
rummaging the accumulated papers. Frequently he called Helen to him to
help str