thing," answered Lawrence. "I'd like it myself."

Claire did not keep up the talk. She, too, was thinking fast, and facing
new problems that demanded her attention. She was surprised to find that
her resentment toward Lawrence was completely gone. What would her
husband think of him? What would he do when she returned, when she told
him of her journey with this blind man through weeks and weeks of
wilderness when they were almost naked. She stopped, that was what
Lawrence had said, 'almost naked.' Her flesh tingled as she saw the
picture which he said he would like to paint of her.

What would she, Claire Barkley, do if such a picture were painted? She
buried her face deep in her hands, but in her heart she knew that she
would respect the man who painted it. And if Lawrence carved her so in
stone, and did it as he thought he could--she pondered over that for
some time.

"I think," she said aloud, and Lawrence raised his head, "that if I were
to stay shut up here alone as Philip does, I should go crazy before
spring."

"It all depends on how your mind is occupied," he laughed.

She blushed guiltily, and was glad he could not see her face.

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

WHAT LIBERTY BONDS MEAN

PATRIOTISM, VICTORY, THE SOUNDEST INVESTMENT IN THE
WORLD, A PERFECT MEANS OF SAVING

BUY ALL YOU CAN

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 VII.

PLAYING WITH FIRE.

In the late afternoon, Philip returned to find Lawrence still sitting
before the fire, his mind centered on ideas for his future work. Claire
had disappeared behind the canvas curtain which was stretched before her
bed.

"It is almost Christmas," announced Philip, as he entered.

Lawrence straightened up. "Back again?" he said, carelessly. "It's been
a beastly day."

Claire came out from her partition, laughing. "If you don't take one of
us with you next time," she said, "I won't answer for the tragedy that
may follow."

Philip laughed, and shook the snow from his big coat.

"Too much of your own continuous company?" he asked.

"Yes"--her tone was light, but he saw that she was in earnest--"we are
so accustomed to each other that we both need a rest." She drew up a
chair for Philip bef