“Very,” she said, quietly.

He nodded:  “Then chance became busy; your duties led you elsewhere—­mine set me adrift in channels once familiar—­”

“Is that all you see in our estrangement?”

“What?” he asked, abruptly.

“Estrangement,” she repeated, tranquilly.  “That is the real word for it.  Because the old intimacy is gone.  And now we both admit it.”

“We have had no opportunity to be together this—­”

“We once made opportunities.”

“We have had no time—­”

“We halted time, hastened it, dictated to it, ruled it—­once.”

“Then explain it otherwise if you can.”

“I am trying to—­with God’s help.  Will you aid me, too?”

Her sudden seriousness and emotion startled him.

“Louis, if our estrangement is important enough for us to notice at all, it is important enough to analyse, isn’t it?”

“I have analysed the reasons—­”

“Truthfully?”

“I think so—­as far as I have gone—­”

“Let us go farther, then—­to the end.”

“But there is no particular significance—­”

“Isn’t there?”

“I don’t know.  After all, why did you leave that cafe?  Why did I?  Why are we together, now—­here in your studio, and utterly miserable at one o’clock of the New Year’s morning?  For you and I are unhappy and ill at ease; and you and I are talking at cross purposes, groping, evading, fencing with words.  If there is nothing significant in the friendship we gave each other from the hour we met—­it is not worth the self-deception you are content with.”

“Self-deception!” he repeated, flushing up.

“Yes.  Because you do care more for me than what you have said about our friendship indicates....  And I care more for your regard than you seem willing to recognise—­”

“I am very glad to—­”

“Listen, Kelly.  Can’t we be honest with ourselves and with each other?  Because—­our being here, now—­my leaving that place in the way I did—­surprises me.  I want to find out why there has been confusion, constraint, somewhere—­there is something to clear up between us—­I have felt that, vaguely, at moments; now I know it.  Let us try to find out what it is, what is steadily undermining our friendship.”

“Nothing, Valerie,” he said, smiling.  “I am as fond of you as ever.  Only you have found time for other friendships.  Your life has become more interesting, fuller, happier—­”

“Not happier.  I realise that, now, as you say it.”  She glanced around her; swiftly her dark eyes passed over things familiar.  “I was happier here than I have ever been in all my life,” she said.  “I love this room—­and everything in it.  You know I do, Louis.  But I couldn’t very well come here when you were using all those models.  If you think that I have neglected you, it is a silly and unfair thing to think.  If I did neglect you I couldn’t help it.  And you didn’t seem to care.”