live with him. Even though Lawrence did not
care, she told herself, she could go out into the world and find her
place.

One evening she came into the house and found Philip alone, sitting
darkly over his book. She felt sorry for him, and, wanting to leave him
friendly memories, if she could, she walked quietly over to him and laid
her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up and smiled faintly, though his face remained clouded.

"Philip," she said, "you look worried!"

"I dare say I do," he returned quietly, but there came into his eyes a
fierce light that frightened her.

"Why should you?" she asked.

"Claire!" He stood up and faced her. "I do not know what you think of
Lawrence. I do not know what he thinks of you. I do not care. I will
tell you one thing. You lay in my arms yonder and said that you would be
my wife. If you did not mean it"--he hesitated--"then you are scarcely
the type of woman to be allowed to live. Don't lead me to suspect that
such is the case."

Claire gasped, realized her situation, and for the moment was carried
beyond all power of speech. She sank in a chair and stared at him. Then,
suppressing her rising fear, she said calmly: "Philip, would you have me
yours against your will?"

His eyes flashed fire at her.

"Would you say you wanted to be mine and not mean it?"

"No," she faltered, "I--I might have meant it then."

"Does your heart change with the passing breeze?"

She was feeling panicky. Her throat was dry and hot.

"I hope not," she said faintly.

"Bah! Does it?" he demanded.

"No," she said, even more faintly.

"Very well. You lay in my arms there and told me you would be my wife.
Years ago, before you came into my life, another woman played with me.
You shall not. I do not know what has happened to bring about the change
in you. It cannot alter my will. You are mine by your own lips. It is
best for us both that I hold you to your promise. When we go out of this
place to a priest you shall become my wife. You dare not be untrue to
yourself!"

She was afraid to answer him. His dark, threatening face told her that
he was beyond reason, and she sank wearily back in her chair. In her
heart she was determined never to be his, but her lips played her false.
Despite her will they whispered submissively, "Very well, Philip. I
understand."

He laughed aloud. "What in Heaven's name made you act like that,
Claire?" he asked, once more kindly and agreeable.

"A woman's whim!