“I’ve often wondered,” said Helen, “but I still don’t know. I could make an argument to show it was Menelaus’ fault, but then I should have to explain Menelaus, and the deeper you get in, the more difficult it is. That is why I have learned to accept a thing once done, as done; we must take the consequences, but there’s no sense in debating it as though it were still to do, and I am disinclined to pass judgment on the doer.”

“That’s a most upsetting doctrine! That would leave all wrongdoers unpunished!”

“Never—unless you feel there is nothing ethical in life itself. I still like to believe you can find out whether an action is right or wrong by doing it—that a right action has better results.”

“Of course, in general,” said Orestes. “But in the practical world, in society, you’ve got to distinguish between criminals and others.”

“I’d like to,” said Helen, “but I doubt if anyone can—that is, not until you have a long time to watch the result of their lives. Take yourself, for example: I don’t know whether you are a murderer or an unusually dutiful son.”

“I tried to do my duty,” said Orestes, “but what I did makes me fiendishly unhappy.”