Philip groaned, and then said again, "Aren't you fair enough to do that, Claire?"
"And what will you read in my eyes next?" she inquired icily.
"Whatever is there?" he answered.
"But your imagination spoils your sight," she returned.
"Perhaps. I will not deny that I am not myself where you are concerned. But I ask only for one more trial. And I will do my best."
Claire was growing more and more worried about Lawrence. What could have happened to him?
"Then go and find Lawrence," she said suddenly.
CHAPTER XIII.
FAINT HEART AND FAIR LADY.
Claire heard Philip leave the house, and she sat down on her bed to wait and think. It seemed ages that she sat there, her imagination busy with a hundred possible calamities. When she finally heard the door open she was almost afraid to look.