"I do know all. Don't I know that he has given the company his note, or pretended to, and secured it by his stock?" Helen's eyes were on Winston. "Do you know this?" She was honestly in doubt. Perhaps Elijah had confided in Winston after all. "I have not seen the papers, but I know Elijah Berl. He has stilled his conscience without surrendering, one iota, his purpose. This note and security are in his own hands. When it comes to the point, he will find a new way to quiet what he calls his conscience." "You do not know all, Ralph. You are unjust. This has gone far enough--too far." Helen spoke coldly. She felt compelled to, against the pleadings of her heart. She turned and began to move away. Winston's hand was again on her arm, restraining her. She tried to free herself, but try as she would, she could not make the action final. Winston's hand slipped down her arm till her hand rested in his. "Helen, I would say all of this for the sake of friendship alone--" She strove to draw her hand from his. "Stop, Ralph, stop right there." "I will not." Winston's grasp tightened, he was drawing her towards him in spite of herself. "There is more than friendship, Helen. There is love. I cannot tell you how much; you will have to let me teach you." His arm was around her now, his eyes striving to look into her own. The pulse of his words, the light of his eyes, the touch of his hand, there was in all these the clear, strong definition between mine and thine. Mine to desire, mine to ask, mine to plead for my desires; thine to give or to withhold that which is all and more than all to me. My heart, my life, my love; thy acceptance of my offering. No selfish pleading, no imperative demand, only a right to ask in undoubting confidence that which it was hers to give or to withhold. She felt his breath on her cheek, the warm glow of his lips nearer and nearer. She could not put them away; her heart cried out against it. Her will to resist, to act as her conscience dictated, was weakening. Only to be at rest, as she was resting now, at peace, no doubts, no fears; she longed for what in strength of mind and purity of heart he was offering her. His clasp grew closer. Why should she not accept? Her senses were reeling in an ecstasy of surrender that gives all and gains all in the giving. As in a delicious yet terrifying dream, she shrank closer to the protecting arms that would shield her forever. "Tell me, Helen, that you love me, not as I love you, that is too much to ask, but tell me that you love me." Her lips trembled in voiceless reply. How she longed to speak the words he desired her to utter. Why could she not? Then her eyes opened wide. Here was a clean heart and a pure life at her feet, strong, throbbing words pleading with her to accept the offering. What had she to give in return? What was she about to give? A stained heart; how deeply stained she did not, could not know, but stained, in exchange for a pure white soul.