lmly and crossed to the fireplace, saying as
she sat down, "No, thank you; I think he is able to take care of
himself."

Philip also seated himself.

"I think he is," he said. "Certainly he thinks so, and comes near enough
to proving his assertion."

She was both angry and pleased with his words.

"I never saw a man less handicapped by misfortune," she remarked.

"He does do very well."

"Lawrence seems all capable sense-nerves, and he is so very efficient
with his touch. What a keen appreciation of beauty he has!"

"I think he does remarkably well."

"In the hills he used to describe scenes to me, and do it accurately
just from their sound; running water and wind in the trees," she went
on, not noticing Philip's short replies.

"Yes, that is quite surprising."

"He certainly has taught me a great deal about blindness."

"Association with him does do that."

"Do you know, I believe he is one of the most unusual men I have ever
known."

Philip rose quickly.

"Doubtless. He is not the only topic of conversation our friendship
permits, is he, Claire?"

She looked up at him, and rose immediately, her eyes flashing.

"I think you are more selfish with your theories of altruism than he
with his egoism."

Philip looked quietly back at her.

"Perhaps I am where the woman I love is concerned."

Claire turned away and walked angrily toward her room.

"I see you can't maintain a friendship," she exclaimed.

"Meaning, you cannot." Philip's voice was bitter.

She turned quickly and looked at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, fearing.

"I mean that you are unfair. You ask me not to talk of my love, you wish
to talk friendship, while you are forcing me by your every word and act
to think of my own misery."

Claire stood aghast before him. His words seemed to her to be an
accusation so grossly false that she was stunned beyond anger.

"I don't understand," she said anxiously.

"You ought to understand. I love you, I cannot help but love you, fight
it as I will. You say you cannot love me because of your husband. Yet
your talk is not of your husband, but of this blind man. You say you
desire friendship, yet you allow me all that a woman allows her accepted
suitor."

Claire was appalled. She stared at him in amazement, faltering.

"Why, Philip, I--what is the matter? I don't do any such thing."

He laughed.

"Of course not," he replied. "You look at me with that warm light in
your eyes, be