Her look was coldly disdainful. “I can’t wish you success,” she said, with a slight nod of dismissal.
“That is not to your credit,” replied he, with quiet dignity.
She flushed. “You know that you yourself are ashamed of what you are doing,” said she.
“Why do you say that?”
“You were ashamed to come to Mr. Hollister’s house.”
“I had two reasons for not going there,” said Helm. “Neither of them was shame—or anything like it. Mr. Hollister may be ashamed. He certainly is afraid. But I am not. They wished to bribe me to silence by flattering me with their friendship. I refused to be bribed. That was one of my reasons.”
As he said it in that way of simple sincerity which made him convincing, both in private life and on the platform, she accepted his statement as the truth. “I don’t know much about business and politics.”
“But you know enough to suspect I may be right,” replied he.
“My sympathies are with my own class,” said she, rather coldly.
“And mine are, naturally, with my class,” said he.