ted with Philip for coming in at the supreme moment, and angry
with Lawrence for his stupidity.

Perhaps these tangled relations might have been cleared had it not been
for a piece of folly more stupendous than any they had yet experienced.
This event occurred the day after Lawrence's walk in the snow.

Philip had stepped out for a few minutes to look at a near-by trap, and
Claire and the artist were left alone for the first time since her
denial. She wanted him to renew his suit, feared that he would, and sat
waiting for him to speak.

But he remained silent, and at last she said, "Lawrence."

"Well?" He did not move.

The psychology of woman has been too often commented upon and attempted
by those who thought they could explain. Why Claire was doing and saying
what she did, she herself could not tell.

"Lawrence, don't you ever, ever act as you did yesterday again."

He smiled. "It would be dangerous if your gallant should come in less
slowly." He was filled with a desire to hurt her.

Claire was angry with him for saying what was so utterly far from her
mind and so different from what she wanted him to say.

"If my gallant should come in," she thrust coldly, "he would scarcely
appreciate the melodrama you are playing."

Lawrence sat up with a jerk, his rage near the boiling point.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "I have not interfered with your
delightful episode, have I?"

"No, and you couldn't. I mean that my husband--he is my lover--for I
know that is what you intend by 'gallant'--would scarcely appreciate the
type of man who mopes and abuses the woman who does not care to lie in
his arms."

Lawrence sat still, while a fierce, uncontrollable rage consumed him. He
felt that to take this woman and whip her into submission would be a
pleasure. He thought of the lash he had in his studio at home and wished
it were in his hand. With the thought he rose and stepped swiftly toward
Claire, his teeth set.

She saw him, and rose.

"I have one way of showing you who is master," he began, and stopped.

She had stepped forward and was standing almost against him.

"Even blindness does not allow you the freedom to threaten."

He shrank back and dropped once more into his chair.

Claire was talking rapidly, savagely. Later she was to be thrown into a
despairing self-hate that kept her many a night in tears, but now she
went on.

"Do you think I will overlook everything in you because I pity you?
There