"But I outgrew her centuries ago."
"The price of growth is always to outgrow," replied Helen.
She was struggling hard to keep the conversation away from dangerous levels. She felt that she must seem heartless, but none the less she went on bravely.
"And after all what is outgrowing? It is a question of moods, of—"
But her courage failed her. Her voice trembled, she turned away from him and walked down the studio, stopping here and there as if to examine a cast or a figure, invisible through the tears which welled up in her eyes. The sculptor followed close behind her, until she put her hand upon the great Oran rug which hung before the door.
"Then you leave me," he broke out bitterly. "You make Ninitta a pretext for escaping me. You might have told me that you did not care for me. I would not have molested you."
She turned to him suddenly, and he was startled by the whiteness of her face, for she was pale to the very lips.
"Do you think it is easy for me to go," she cried passionately, "to give you up when I love you! You should help me, not make it harder. Isn't it better to part now while we have nothing to regret than to live with a wrong between us?"
"But what wrong will be between us? Surely that boyish mistake need not blight both our lives."
"Can we help it?" she asked sadly.