our lust for life
has sent children out to carry on the struggle.

"Oh, Claire, it is you the woman, demanding at any cost that your child
live, who gives us our great knowledge, our beauty, our selfishness, and
our strident sex, our pain."

Claire caught her breath and sobbed: "Lawrence, Lawrence!"

"Yes," he went on, "that is the end of it all. I see it now. You,
unknown to yourself, demanding your child, stung to fear of death
without it here in the wilderness, you love me--I know it, you love me.
And I--I love you. It was that which drove you to speak as you did. I
see. I love you!"

She sank down on the pillow beside him. In her heart was a great relief
which carried her away in a flood of tears. Lawrence talked on unheeded
by her. He had made everything clear, and she was utterly happy.

When Philip came in he found her sitting quietly, in her eyes a deep,
calm peace that filled him with wonder.

He smiled at her, thoughtfully, and remarked: "Well, Claire, you look
happier than you have for months."

"I am," she said simply.

They did not carry on the conversation. He was satisfied that it was
love for him which made her so distant, and he was content to wait until
she should be his wife. He sat by the fire, watching her earnestly, and
she was too deep in her new-found joy even to think of him or of her
promise to him.

TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. Don't forget this magazine
is issued weekly, and that you will get the
continuation of this story without waiting a month.

Claire

by
Leslie Burton Blades

THE BLIND LOVE OF A BLIND HERO

_BY A BLIND AUTHOR_

This story began in the All-Story Weekly for October 5.

CHAPTER XVII.

ANGLES OF A TRIANGLE.

It was well into April before Lawrence was able to walk again. His
convalescence had been slow, and he was still very weak. They had
planned to start out by the end of April, but they were compelled to
postpone the journey until the middle of May. Philip was fired with
impatience. He wanted to get out to a priest and be married to Claire.
She, on her part, was glad of the delay. She dreaded the hour when she
should have to tell Philip that she would not marry him. Her joy in her
love for Lawrence was too great, however, to allow for much thought
about the matter.

She looked back upon her yielding to Philip as upon a terrible
nightmare, but she still liked him and could not bring herself to limit
the intimate ways which had spru