kedness as rapidly as I," he chuckled, "I fear we
both will have to avoid civilization. Undisguised humanity isn't
tolerated there."

She flushed warmly, then laughed.

"I wonder why people are so afraid of being seen," Lawrence went on. "Of
course, there's the warmth and natural protection of clothing, but one
would feel so much freer without the encumbrance of shirt-stud and
feathered plume."

"We need them to complete a personality," said Claire. "I know few
people who would inspire respect in their elemental state. Stripped of
advertising silk and diamond, they wouldn't be so suggestive of
wealth."

"But why be so eager to impress others with your power?"

She turned toward him with a faint smile. "If you didn't ask that as
mere conversation, I would think you childish. You know very well why.
It probably goes back to the days when the possession of a fish-hook,
more or less, meant surer life. It has come to mean, now, that the
decoration of an extra feather or white flannel trousers means
advantageous position, the place of more power, more pleasure; in short,
greater fulness of living."

"But we are living fully, goodness knows," he interrupted. "This last
week we have had to exert our wits and bodies in more ways than we ever
did before in all our lives. True, I do miss my modeling somewhat." He
spoke the last with a soft mellowness in his voice and a wistfulness
that made her look at him quickly.

"Modeling?" she asked.

He nodded slowly.

"What sort of modeling?" she insisted.

"Oh, probably poor, for the most part. I did some work that was
beginning to make its way, though."

"You mean sculpture?"

He nodded again.

She looked at him earnestly. Here was a new revelation. She had wondered
at this man's apparent keen sense of form, and his imaginative power
when he spoke of color or mentioned line, and she had been sure from his
occasional word that he was a wide student of literature.

"What did you do at home?" she asked abruptly.

"Oh, played with living," he said indifferently.

She felt irritated that he would not tell her more of his life, yet she
remembered that she had practically refused to discuss her own with him.

"See here, Lawrence," she said suddenly, "we aren't quite fair with each
other, are we?"

"Why not?" he answered quietly. "I carry you toward your old life, you
guide me toward mine. It's a fair business, with equal investment. I'm
not complaining."

She was silen