“I was afraid of this,” he said, playing up. “You take it entirely too hard. I am not really a villain, Carlotta.”
It was the first time he had used her name.
“Sit down and let us talk things over.”
She sat down at a safe distance, and looked across the little clearing to him with the somber eyes that were her great asset.
“You can afford to be very calm,” she said, “because this is only play to you; I know it. I've known it all along. I'm a good listener and not—unattractive. But what is play for you is not necessarily play for me. I am going away from here.”
For the first time, he found himself believing in her sincerity. Why, the girl was white. He didn't want to hurt her. If she cried—he was at the mercy of any woman who cried.
“Give up your training?”
“What else can I do? This sort of thing cannot go on, Dr. Max.”
She did cry then—real tears; and he went over beside her and took her in his arms.
“Don't do that,” he said. “Please don't do that. You make me feel like a scoundrel, and I've only been taking a little bit of happiness. That's all. I swear it.”