"If he has," she said, "you ought to be glad! You are free to marry him if you love him, and you ought to thank God for the privilege." "Yes. But what is marriage going to do to my work? I never meant to marry. I’ve been afraid to. What happens to a girl’s creative work if her heart is full of something else—full of her lover—her husband—children, perhaps—new duties, new cares! ... I didn’t _want_ to love this man. I loved my work. It took all of me. It’s the very devil to have a thing like this happen. It scares me. I can’t think of my work now. It bores me to recollect it. My mind and heart are full of this man!—there’s no room in it for anything else.... What is this going to do to my career? That’s what frightens me to think about.... And I can’t give up sculpture, and I _won’t_ give up Phil! Oh, Steve, it’s the very deuce of a mess—it really is. And you lie there eating chocolates and reading piffle, and you calmly tell me to thank God that I am free to marry!" Stephanie’s clear grey eyes regarded her: "If you’re any good," she said, "your career will begin from the moment you fell in love. Love clears the mind wonderfully. You learn a lot about yourself when you fall in love.... I learned that I had no talent, nothing to express. That’s what love has done for me. But you will learn what genius really means." Helen came slowly back to where the girl was lying. "You _are_ in love, then," she said gently. "I was afraid." "I am afraid, too." They looked at each other in silence. "Do you ever mean to live with Oswald?" asked Helen. "Not if I can avoid it." "Can you not?" "Yes, I can avoid it—unless the price of immunity is too heavy." "I don’t understand." "I know you don’t. Neither does Jim. It’s a rather ghastly situation." "You are not at liberty to explain it, are you?" "No." Helen bent and laid her hand on Stephanie’s hair: "I’m sorry. I knew you were falling in love. There seemed to be no help for either of you." "No, no help. One can’t help one’s heart’s inclinations. The only thing we can control is our behaviour." "Steve, are you unhappy?" "I’m beginning to be.... I didn’t think I would be—it’s so wonderful.... But the seriousness of love reveals itself sooner or later.... A girl begins to understand.... All we want is to give, if we’re in love.... It’s tragic when we can’t." She turned her face abruptly and laid one arm across her eyes. Helen sank to her knees again and laid her cool face against Stephanie’s flushed cheek. "Darling," she said, "there must be some way for you." "No honourable way." "But that marriage is a farce." "Yes. I made it so.... But Oswald cares for me." "Still?" "Yes.... He is a very wonderful, generous, unhappy man; proud, deeply sensitive, tender-hearted, and loyal. I can not sacrifice him. He has done too much for my sake.... And I promised——" "What?"