"But I can't help it," said Julia.
"Then what is to become of you? You need a helmet."
"A helmet?" said Julia again. "What sort of a helmet?"
"You want to know that God has forgiven you; that he is not angry with you; that he loves you, and has made you his child."
"How can I?" said the child, pressing closer to the speaker where he sat on the step of the door. And no wonder, for the words were given with a sweet earnest utterance which drew the hearts of both bearers. He went on without looking at Eleanor; or without seeming to look that way.
"How can you what?"
"How can I have that?"
"That helmet? There is only one way."
"What is it, Mr. Rhys?"
They were silent a minute, looking at each other, the man and the child; the child with her eyes bent on his.