ushed warm as his hands
slipped under her, and he straightened up. She hesitated, and wanted not
to do it, but realized the necessity, and put her arm around his neck.

"I shall be grateful when I can walk," was her comment.

"It will make our progress more rapid," he agreed, and she was angry
again. She knew that he thought only in terms of the most efficient
means of getting ahead. A longing possessed her to make him realize that
he was physically distasteful to her.

"We are so vastly different," she said, "it is disagreeable to be
carried this way."

Lawrence flushed, and she was pleased. At least he understood now.

"Of course," he admitted calmly, "it isn't pleasant, but I suppose one
must make the best of a bad bargain."

There was silence for a while, then he said suddenly, "I think I
realize, Claire, that a blind man is at best a poor companion for a
woman who is accustomed to being amused, and whose interests are those
of the society glow-worm."

Claire resented the picture, but she kept her voice steady. "Surely at
home you had your own social group," she said pleasantly.

"Of a sort, yes. We were all workers, not going in much for form,
entertainment, and that sort of thing. We generally sat in the gallery
at the opera, and did mostly as we pleased everywhere. None of us were
rolling in wealth. We worked for the love of it, and looked to the
future for pay."

"I see." She was thinking fast. "You were struggling young artists." Her
voice was sugar-coated.

"We were struggling young artizans," he answered, seemingly indifferent
to her irony.

As he made slower progress when he talked, she did not attempt to carry
on the conversation. The stops for rest were gradually lengthening out,
and he was getting hard and wiry so that his endurance was greater. He
was quicker at catching himself when he stumbled, and he did not puff so
hard between grades. Claire felt the easier swing of his body when he
walked, and noticed that he was growing surer of foot and more graceful
in movement, and she realized that except for his eyes he was a splendid
specimen of manhood. She now admitted all these things to herself, but
they only added to her feeling against him. She wondered if he had been
as indifferent to all women as he was to her, and was displeased that
she wondered.

Suddenly Lawrence stopped and put her down by his side. Claire looked up
at him and saw his forehead gathering in a frown.

"What is it?