aid. "I understand, but you must realize that it
is impossible. Won't you see that? It was, perhaps, partly my fault.
Forgive me if it was, and let us be friends. Philip, I want a friend,"
she continued. "I need one, a big, strong man whom I can trust, whom I
know to be my loyal friend and my husband's friend."

He put out his hand, shame and love mingling in his face.

"I will be that friend, Claire," he said, earnestly.

She took his hand, her mind breaking with relief. She felt she was going
to cry, and she leaned forward to hide her filling eyes.

"Oh, Philip, God bless you! You do not know what this means to me! You
will never know. I thank you, I thank you!"

The tears rushed down her cheeks and dropped upon their clasped hands.

"Claire, don't, please--please don't," Philip pleaded, anguish in his
tone.

She stopped, forced back her sobs, and smiled at him.

"Philip Ortez," she said, "I shall make you glad of this."

Deep in his heart, the words gave him hope. He grasped at them as a
drowning man at a life-belt, but he did not voice the hope.

"I want to spend much of my time with you, Philip, in the out-of-doors.
I must do it, and it is such a relief to know that I can do it
without--without fear. You will be just my friend, won't you?"

"If it is in my power, I will." He spoke as a knight of old, taking a
holy vow, and in his heart was the deep, sacred sense of the spirit that
still moved in his idealistic soul.

Claire laughed joyously, almost hysterically, with the peace that came
over her at the sound of his words. She was sure that all was well. If
she had known that already he was building on the promise of frequent
days alone, she would have been more afraid than ever. But she did not
know that, neither did she know that in her very promise she was
preparing a more difficult situation for her own struggle with herself
than any she had ever faced in her life. She was only aware of the
crisis passed and the peace that was now hers.

"Let us go back," she said gaily.

They found Lawrence smoothing his little carved child with a stone.
Claire was effervescent with joy. Her great plan seemed sure of
success, and she greeted him with a gaiety that was as abnormal as her
despondency had been before.

"Lawrence," she cried, "we have had such a walk! And here you have
finished for us this beautiful cherub as the symbol of our little home."

Her words stung him with savage pain, filling him with a