!" He bent again to his work, but it
did not go so smoothly. Out there she and Philip would be laughing
merrily together, skimming over the snow in long, sweeping strides, hand
in hand. Would they think of him? Probably not, or if they did it would
be to say, "Poor Lawrence! It's a pity he's blind. He has real talent."

He gritted his teeth. Well, he had real talent, and they should know it.
She should know it. He would show her such carving as she had never
thought possible. After all, was her love to him, Lawrence the artist,
the capable, blindness-conquering artist? "I am reconstructing my life,"
he thought, "so that I can still find it valuable without the woman I
want." He again laughed bitterly and said to himself, "You poor, blind,
groveling beast, you, what a poor excuse for life you have, and what a
tawdry substitute you would offer Claire for the vast joy that is hers!
Oh, it is contemptible!"

He bent over his work again, and the door opened.

Claire came across the room and leaned over him, her body radiating a
cool, healthy perfume as she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, what a splendid piece of work, Lawrence!"

Her voice was joyous, triumphant, and his heart beat desperately against
his chest. "They've declared their love," he thought, and then he said
simply, his voice vibrant with the emotion he did not otherwise show,
"It's been beastly lonesome to-day, Claire."

She laughed gaily, while her eyes clouded. Then she noticed the
untouched food on the table.

"Why, Lawrence, didn't you like the lunch I fixed for you?"

"It was bully, Claire," he answered quickly, "but I wasn't very hungry
to-day--I don't know why."

The emotional coloring in his voice set her whole being atremble. She
had come in, radiant with the day's pleasure, and he had met her with
his need. He had been too blue even to eat. She was suddenly seized with
pity for him, as she thought of his long day alone. But more than that,
over and over in her heart she kept saying, with a joy she could not
conceal from herself, "He loves me! He loves me!"

Philip came in and bent over them both to look at the wooden child.

"_Caramba!_ it is a marvelous thing!" he exclaimed. The unconscious use
of the Spanish word showed the genuineness of his admiration.

Claire laughed joyously. She was glad that Philip knew the power of this
blind man who loved her, and a vague feeling came over her that she was
now somehow safe from Philip. Inst