"I had been starved, rebuffed, for over three months. I grew desperate. Temptation came. I yielded. I entered a house—entered it to steal. But I did not steal. I could not. I came away with nothing."
He paused. His guilt was out. He awaited her judgment, fearful of her condemnation, with resentment ready for it if it came.
"Is that all!" she cried.
Vast relief quivered through him. "You mean then that—" He hesitated.
"That you have been fiercely tempted, but you are not guilty."
"You see it so!"
"Yes. Had you conquered temptation on the outer side of the door, you would certainly have been guiltless. Since you conquered temptation on the inner side of the door, I cannot see that those few more steps are the difference between guilt and innocence."
They were both silent a moment.
"But don't you want to tell me something about yourself—about your plans?" she asked.
The friendship in her voice, in her frank face, warmed him through. "Certainly," he said. "But there's very little to tell."