a voice that was full of anxiety: "Lawrence, what in
God's name has happened?"

Lawrence was moving now, and she waited with bated breath for his
answer. He walked to the table and sat down. His voice was heavy. "I've
found myself out, Philip. That's all. I know what I am."

There was a moment of silence. Claire covered her mouth with her hand to
suppress a cry. She wanted to shout: "No, no, no, not that, but what I
am, my beloved, my adored one."

"What do you mean?" Philip's voice seemed stern.

"I mean that I am indebted to you and Claire for the truth I needed."

Behind the curtain Claire turned on her face and burst into sobs.

Philip arose abruptly. "Lawrence," he said quietly, "I do not know what
has happened to you this afternoon; I do not know what you mean; but
this I do know: I am deeply sorry if anything I have done or said has
made you feel that you are an unwelcome guest in my home."

Lawrence stood up and gathered his scattered senses.

"Philip, I beg your pardon, old man. It isn't that at all. The truth
is"--and his voice broke--"I have lied to myself and to the world these
many years. Much of it hasn't been my fault, but I must pay the price
just the same. I am blind. That has led me to a sort of clamorous egoism
which carried me on and on until I came to feel that I was really doing
something. At last, I know that I am a narrow human parasite, worthless,
utterly worthless. A blind, clinging, grasping, vagrant beast, fed upon
the mercy of too kind-hearted humanity. I am sorry. It isn't my fault,
but it is so."

Philip stood for a few minutes in silence. "You're ill, Lawrence," he
said finally. "Get back to yourself if you can. Things do not stay at
this point in human abasement. I know of what I speak. I have been
through that myself. I cannot say anything comforting. No one can."

They went to bed with but a few commonplace remarks, and the cabin
became silent. Lawrence lay awake through that night. Claire, unknown to
him, spent her vigil in a great readjustment of her life.

CHAPTER XIV.

PHILIP TO THE RESCUE.

It is always the little things in human relations that have the most
far-reaching results. Claire might have avoided much trouble with a few
well-chosen words to Lawrence, but her own mental state prevented her
from speaking.

On his part, Lawrence was so shaken by her outburst that his love for
her was driven deep into his subconscious self, and for the time it lay
the