The sculptor started up suddenly and stood firmly, throwing back his splendid head and shoulders, and looking straight into the eyes of his friend.
"Yes," he said in a clear, low voice. "I have changed. I—-There is some one else."
"Life," remarked Rangely, with seeming irrelevancy, "life is a fallacy."
"I'd like to be honorable," Herman continued, "but how can I? It is impossible to be honest to both her and myself. If I hadn't had any scruples, then—-Bah! What a beast I am! Poor Ninitta."
Still Rangely smoked in silence, and the sculptor went on again.
"It has always been my creed that when a man has allowed a woman to love him—much more, made her love him, as I did—he is a black-hearted knave to let a change in himself wreck her happiness. Now I am put to the test."
"And the other one?" asked Rangely. "Does she know that you care for her?"
"I have never said so to her. Heaven only knows how much she feels by intuition. A man always fancies that the woman he loves can tell."
"That may depend something on how often you see her." "I see her nearly every day. She is my pupil."
"Mrs. Greyson?"