"And you will not tell why?"
"I cannot. I wish I could."
"Then, Elma, I also must be firm. I cannot help you."
"You will not ask your father?"
"How could I? It would be a subterfuge—the whole thing would be a subterfuge. I must have nothing to do with it. I am sorry, Elma, for I see you are in great trouble; but I am powerless."
"Then I am ruined," said Elma. She covered her face with her hands, and the tears trickled slowly between her fingers.
"I wish I could help you," said Gwin kindly. "Is there any other way?"
"No other way. I want eight pounds for a fortnight—I want it desperately. You could manage to let me have it without breaking the rules of the school, but you will not."
"I am truly sorry, but—I will not."
"Oh, Gwin, if you would only trust me. We were always friends, were we not?"