But now, when I am neither a child nor yet do you love me, I would have you cease to treat me as you have done." "You are indeed no longer a child, but the fairest of sweet maids," I made answer.

"I will do nothing you do not wish me to do.

For, hearken to me, Helene, my heart is bound up in you, as indeed you know.

But as to the second word of accusation--that I do not love you anymore--" "You do not--you cannot!" she interrupted, "or you would not go out with Michael Texel all night to drinking-places, and worse, keeping your father and those that _do_ love awake, hurting their hearts here" (she put her hand on her side), "and all for what--that you may drink and revel and run into danger with your true friends ?" "Sweetheart," I began--penitently.
The Little Playmate made a gesture of infinite impatience.
"Do not call me that," she said; "you have no right.

I am not your sweetheart.