cause you think I am not human. I am a mere duenna, a
chaperon, perhaps."

She sank into a chair and covered her face. "I didn't think," she
moaned, and could say no more. A thousand memories of her intimate
treatment of Philip swept through her mind. She had considered him as
one of her own family, without thought, without intent, because she had
believed so strongly in his assurance of friendship. After a pause, she
gathered her thoughts.

"Philip, I may have done as you say," she spoke slowly, "but it was not
because I was not conscious of your manhood. It was because I thought
you stronger than you are. I believed you could be my friend and not ask
more."

He stood quietly looking at her where she sat.

"And what of him?" he asked, steadily.

"I am worried about him because he is blind, nothing more." She lied,
looking straight into his eyes, then rose and stepped behind the
curtain.

"Claire," he almost sang. "I am deeply, humbly, a thousand times sorry.
You cannot know how your talk of Lawrence made me wild. I am a fool, I
will admit, but I cannot think of your loving him, blind, selfish,
egoistic, intolerant of other people, I cannot."

"You needn't," she returned, coldly. Her whole soul was filled with
rage. She was recalling that he had said her eyes were alight when she
looked at him, and she told herself that it was not true.

"Won't you give me a chance to show myself as I am, Claire? I want to
prove to you that I am not a selfish beast."

She thought of Lawrence's cynical view of Philip's sentiments, and she
laughed.

Philip groaned, and then said again, "Aren't you fair enough to do that,
Claire?"

"And what will you read in my eyes next?" she inquired icily.

"Whatever is there?" he answered.

"But your imagination spoils your sight," she returned.

"Perhaps. I will not deny that I am not myself where you are concerned.
But I ask only for one more trial. And I will do my best."

Claire was growing more and more worried about Lawrence. What could have
happened to him?

"Then go and find Lawrence," she said suddenly.

CHAPTER XIII.

FAINT HEART AND FAIR LADY.

Claire heard Philip leave the house, and she sat down on her bed to wait
and think. It seemed ages that she sat there, her imagination busy with
a hundred possible calamities. When she finally heard the door open she
was almost afraid to look.

"Lawrence!" Her voice was full of warm gladness.

He was hanging his ha