makes us able lovers, too?"

He laughed. "By Jove, I believe it is!" he exclaimed. "Well, old
universal tangle, I do truly thank you for the power to be a foolish,
deceived, human being. Hurrah for the instinct that makes me call you my
divine necessity, Claire."

She laughed happily and leaned against his shoulder.

"For any instinct or deception that makes you more enjoyable, let us
give thanks," he repeated.

"And for all the dear bodily claims that make me your adored one I do
give thanks, Lawrence," she whispered.

Their lips met again. She drew back startled, and sprang to her feet
with a cry of terror.

Philip stood in the doorway, looking at them with a face from which all
human sentiment was gone. He was a raging beast.

"Lawrence," she screamed. "Philip!"

Her lover sprang to his feet. Now he realized his blindness and its true
handicap. Philip was there, somewhere before him, thinking what he could
not know. He waited, every muscle strained with expectant fear and
anger.

Claire was staring at Philip with abject terror in her face. Lawrence
could not know that, he only heard her breathing heavily, and
instinctively his arm went out to her.

"Don't be afraid, dear," he said tenderly.

The man in the door uttered an exclamation. "So"--and his words were
sharp as icicles--"that is your damned wanton way. You are the second
harlot I have loved."

Lawrence started forward angrily.

"Fool!" he ejaculated.

Claire's warning scream gave him just time to brace his body. Philip had
sprung at him like a wild beast, and the impact of his weight sent
Lawrence staggering backward. In that moment the Spaniard's hand closed
on his throat. The blind man was paying the price of his defect in his
long-talked-of primitive battle for life.

Even then he thought of the scene as it must be, and smiled bitterly,
while his hand went to his throat and tore at the wrist that was
steeling itself to rob him of breath.

Had he been able to see, the fight would still have been unequal. Philip
was taller, wirier, and quicker on his feet. Lawrence's one advantage
lay in his keen, quick response to touch sensation, and that gave him
his sense of direction and ability to move rightly.

With one hand he tore at Philip's wrist, while with the other he reached
steadily for Philip's face.

They had knocked over the chairs and were staggering against the table.

From the corner by the fireplace Claire watched them in an ago