you, Claire?" Philip demanded hoarsely.

Suddenly her suffering broke into tears. To his utter amazement, she
began to cry unrestrainedly.

Over and over she sobbed: "I don't know, I don't know."

For a moment Philip stood motionless, bewildered, then his love and
natural tenderness swept over him, and he said tenderly, "Don't, Claire,
please."

She only cried harder, weakened the more by his pity. He took her in his
arms as he would a child, and comforted her. She was tempted to
struggle, but her need for sympathy prevailed, and she did not resist
him. He held her in his arms, pouring out his love, his anxiety, his
tenderness, and in her momentary condition she listened and made no
protest. In her aching mind she kept repeating, "I have killed
Lawrence's love with my bestial talk"--and she wanted love. She did not
think of her husband. He was too far away. In her present attitude she
exalted Lawrence to the unattainable, and, without formulating the
thought, she was willing to lie in Philip's arms and take what he could
give. They were two of a kind, she thought scornfully. In her
bitterness, the bleak, snow-covered land, with its drooping pines,
seemed in its cold monotony a fitting background for two such worthless
derelicts.

In the Spaniard's mind was but one thought--to comfort Claire and
restore her to her usual self. Vaguely he knew that love was already
promised by the unresisting body in his arms, but there was no thought
of immediately pressing his suit. He petted and talked until she stopped
crying, then he stood her on her feet, and said, with a tender laughter
in his words: "There, you are all right again. We would better go in.
You are cold."

Silently she walked beside him back to the cabin. She was indifferent,
she thought, as to whether he did or did not continue his appeals for
love. She was under her own deep, unexplained, emotional control which
led her forward. She was finding herself, but before she would be safe
she would have to throw off a mass of traditional views, beliefs, and
teachings. If Philip chose to press his suit while her knowledge of
herself still seemed vile and abnormal, she would be surely his. Claire
thought herself lost. She had revealed her terrible state to Lawrence,
killed his love, filled him with abhorrence, and struck at his life's
source.

With silent turmoil in her brain she entered the cabin beside Philip.
When she saw Lawrence, a sharp pain went through her.