er," Philip said,
with the air of defining infinity.

"Does it? Well, if that is frankness by definition, I have known many
women with whom I was in love, but neither they nor I knew it until this
minute."

Lawrence laughed. Philip flushed, shrugged his shoulders, and stood up.

"I thank goodness I do not see things as you do," he said.

"Even the parable of the Pharisee has its modern aspect," Lawrence
murmured chucklingly.

Philip stood looking moodily across the lake, and fortunately did not
catch his words.

"I think I shall walk a little," he said coldly. "I can't sleep until I
have walked some of your conversation out of my soul."

"Go to it," Lawrence said with a smile. "I didn't mean to corrupt you."

"You didn't. You simply make me angry. I'm sorry, but you do."

"Yes? So am I. However, it won't last much longer, Philip."

Both men smiled at the thoughts that came with those words.

"I think I shall go in," Lawrence went on. "I shall want sleep for the
big start to-morrow."

Philip looked hopefully at Claire. She rose with a sigh of weariness,
pretending not to see him.

"So shall I," she said. "Good night, both of you."

She was gone into the cabin, and Philip looked disappointed. He turned
down the lake shore, dreaming of the end of his journey, rebelling at
the necessity for Claire to listen to Lawrence's talk, and rejoicing at
how different his life with her would be.

Inside the cabin, Lawrence closed the door and stepped into the room.
Claire stood waiting silently before him, and when he came to her, she
threw her arms happily around his neck. He laughed and caught her up.

"So you lie in wait for me, do you?" he teased.

"Why not? I want to capture my man," she said softly.

"You have him, dearest. And, by the way"--he sat down and drew her on to
the arm of his chair--"permit me to extend you my sympathy for the
suffering you must have experienced at the thought of living with
Philip."

She shuddered a little, and laughed.

"Such frankness as his home would permit!" she said. "I'm afraid our
hearth would not radiate warmth."

"Nothing could warm such a home into anything like the real thing,"
Lawrence mused. "It was my privilege when in college to stay for a time
in a home where the people had really attained the ideal. It was the
only home that ever made me envious."

"I shall make you such a home, dear," she whispered.

"No, we will have a mere cave, a lair," he laughed.