Winston noticed the heightened color. Its cause was a question with a doubtful answer, but he did not hesitate on that account.
"It's no use trying to deceive me, Helen. There is something troubling you, and seriously, too—"
"Suppose there is, may I not keep my troubles to myself if I choose?" She tried to speak firmly and finally.
Winston continued with no resentment and with no vacillation.
"If you are troubled about any affairs of the company, I ought to know; you should not keep it from me. If it is personal, I have no intention of forcing your confidence. I only want to ask you one thing. Don't you believe that I am your sincere friend?"
Helen strove to conceal her agitation. She longed with all her heart to meet half way the open loyalty that was offered her. She longed to show him that she appreciated it, but—how could she be frank with him without disloyalty to Elijah? Elijah had forfeited her respect, but was he wholly to blame? He had absolved her from the obligations of friendship, but there were other obligations that she could not put aside. Together they had assumed business responsibilities, together they must meet them. She longed for Winston's advice, assistance, but how could she accept either without baring the secret shame that was festering in her heart? Strive as she would, she could not wholly control her voice.
"You have always been my friend, Ralph. Please try to believe that I appreciate it. You can't know what it means to me and I can't tell you. Won't you trust me a little longer?" She tried to steady the deep black eyes that she raised to him.
Winston caught the hand that trembled on the matted needles.
"Always, Helen, always."
She gently withdrew her hand, rising to go.