evening."

"I would," she said promptly. "I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Lawrence did not say anything, but to his sudden surprise he felt his
heart sink. An insistent inner voice was saying, "I wish she wouldn't
go."

He heard her, back of the curtain, dressing for the trip, and his little
petulant thought grew into gloom at the prospect of her being away. He
felt irritated at Philip for suggesting that she go.

"You'll have to leave me a good spread, Claire," he said finally when
she emerged into the room.

"I'll fix you up a great meal," she laughed. "You can eat all day, if
you like." In her voice there was an unusual warmth, for at his words
she felt suddenly as though she were thoughtless of him in going. For a
minute she pondered giving up the trip, then concluded that to do so
would seem ridiculous, and set about preparing his lunch.

Philip rose and, putting on his heavy coat, said carelessly, "You can
carve us a new wooden image, Lawrence."

The words were casual and without intention, but they angered. Lawrence
felt as though both of them were trying to make amends to him for their
going, as though, being blind, he must of course stay at home, but ought
to have something to occupy his time. His resentment grew stronger as he
continued to think of their supposed condescension.

When the lunches were ready Claire and Philip started. At the door she
paused and said gaily: "Keep the house warm for our returning,
Lawrence."

He was sullenly angry and made no reply. The frank way in which she
spoke of herself and Philip somehow recalled to his mind other couples,
married lovers starting out somewhere, and his heart tightened
perceptibly. After they were gone he sat thinking for a long time, and
his impulsive feeling clarified into certainty. Claire and Philip were
in love. Perhaps they did not know it yet themselves, and had not
spoken, perhaps they had; at any rate, they were in love. It had grown
between them in his very presence, and he, doubly blind fool, had not
known. If he could have seen, it would have been clear to him, of
course.

He thought of Claire's husband, and grew virtuously angry at Claire.
Howard Barkley would mourn his days out, never knowing that his beloved
wife was living in Bolivia with a Spanish trapper! He saw Claire going
about the cabin as Philip's wife and doing for love the things she now
did out of a desire to be of use, and his rage grew. Was it not for love
that she