She shook her long hair down over his face playfully.

"Will you be a savage old cave man?" she asked.

"I shall. As savage as they ever made them in the golden age," he
answered, and drew her down against him.

"I shall like that," she said, her eyes full of a warm, dreamy light.

"You will be terribly abused by your beast husband," Lawrence said
gaily.

"I think sometimes, Lawrence, that I could enjoy being hurt by your
hands--having them really cause me pain."

He gripped her tightly against him and his hands tightened.

"Claire," he said, "a man never knows what there is in his nature till a
woman like you whispers in his ear. You make me afraid at what I feel
within me."

"I know," she said. "I'm afraid, too, of what there is in you, but just
the same I'm going to be the happiest woman in the world."

"I hope so," he said. "But you will have to defend yourself against
selfishness."

"I have to do that already," she laughed, "but I don't mind. I can, and
that is the main thing. Besides, when you really want anything very
much, you have a way of forcing me to want it, too, my master-lover!"

He laughed joyously. "Claire," he said, "if we ever do go to smash, you
and I, there will have been a glorious day and a glorious house to smash
with. It won't be a petty breaking of toy dishes!"

"No," she whispered, "it will be the breaking of life's foundations."

She slipped from his arms and into her room. Philip was coming in.
Lawrence sat down in a chair and Philip threw himself on his bed in
silence.

He was caught in the inevitable result of his beliefs. He had argued
with Lawrence because he was troubled. His whole being was filled with a
great fear. Remembering how Lawrence and Claire had acted lately, he had
been thrown into a fever of jealous rage. He was utterly beyond his
depth now, and he was silent because to speak would have meant to break
into accusation. His imagination had pictured Claire in Lawrence's arms
while he was gone; if he had actually known the truth it would have been
less agonizing than the picture.

He lay there filled with his own thoughts and dreading the moment when
Lawrence would come and lie down beside him. Behind her curtain he heard
Claire moving about, humming a little song, and it added to his torture.
He turned restlessly on his bed and groaned.

Lawrence raised his head. He, too, was dreaming of Claire, but his
imaginings, vividly alluring in their appeal, were fi