She held out a hand to him. "No. Forgive me, father," she whispered.
He gazed steadily at her—and again his quick mind was searching for a solution to the situation. He pressed her hand. "I want to think. We'll speak of this again."
He started out, but she stepped before him. "Wait—there's something I must say. But first, you must never tell what you've just found out."'
He did not answer.
His silence stirred a sudden new fear. She crept close to him and peered up into his face. "Father—you're not going to tell, are you?"
Again he was silent.
Her face paled with consternation. She drew a long breath, and her voice came out a thin whisper. "You are going to tell, father! I see it."
He looked into her wide brown eyes and at her quivering face. "I think, Helen, you can leave the proper action to my discretion."
She swayed slightly, and then her whole body tightened with effort. "You are going to make his innocence public," she said, with slow accusation. "You can't deny it."
"I am," he said shortly.