Claire turned and looked at them, her eyes sternly reproachful toward Philip.
"One can't help thinking," she said. "I can't."
"I shouldn't want you to," Lawrence returned. "Indeed, I'm grateful to you for making me think, too."
"She started you off, did she?" Philip smiled.
Lawrence did not answer, and Philip sat down by the fire where he could watch Claire as she worked.
After a time Lawrence said thoughtfully: "If one could establish some sort of a relation between himself and the ultimate first cause of all this blind snowstorm we call life, things might get shaped with some measure for perspectives."
"Yes," Philip assented. "I manage to establish one, though I confess it isn't clearly logical."
"What is it?" Lawrence asked.
"Simply having faith; hope, if you prefer it."
"But faith in what, and what do you base it on?"