him over. He was here today to buy and he knows the mess Helen's in—because you told him, because you told the things she told you, you snake!"
He had said those things. His own words repeated by Goddard, pelted in on his consciousness, battering down the strength that had prompted him to admit everything before coming out with the explanation; his words, confused and rendered him helpless.
Again he turned to the girl. "Helen, do you believe—"
But his golden moment had passed. The pride which had held him quiet to take punishment and emerge with an explanation and clean hands had robbed him of the opportunity to clear himself. He had stood quiet; he had made no denial and now as he looked at the girl he saw only the tight set of her mouth, the barrier of her searching stare. She would not speak! She damned him with her silence! She had whispered love to him but in this moment she had no faith!
Love?—That was no love!
He could not know that beneath that front Helen's heart was breaking, She felt lost, like a little girl who is lost. She had given her trust, her lips to this man; she had challenged Goddard when he warned against him, but Goddard had been right. John Taylor had not been worthy of her trust, let alone her caresses—else why that silence? Why had he admitted the black charges? He had betrayed her while he made love! Oh, she was sick and weak and faint, but her high temper was up. Her forest was her life. Today John Taylor, through Phil Rowe, had struck at her life! There could be no answer to that!
She moved to her desk and sat down, trying to still the
