You are a thief!" He stepped back as though she had struck him, and his hands dropped to his sides.
"Yes, you are a thief!" she said again, hysterically; "a thief!" The repetition of the word goaded him.
"Wait! Let me defend myself!" But with a broken sound of protest she flung her hands over her ears.
"No! no! no!" she cried, vehemently.

"There is no defence to make.

There is no defence.

You may leave the money of the sect, but you have stolen things that can never be replaced.

Faith--hopes--ideals--" Her voice failed her.
"Mistaken faith--mistaken ideals--" He caught her wrists, drawing her hands downward.
But again she freed herself and confronted him with blazing eyes and a face marred by tears and emotion.
"Nothing is mistaken that lifts one up--that helps one to live.