She settled down with a sigh of content, her head against his shoulder, and announced, very much like a child saying what it knows to be wisely true: "You need a woman who is keen enough to think with you and be eyes for you, natural and unspoiled by conventional sham enough to be your heart's answer, self-willed enough to be herself and deny you and your selfishness, and, above all, mother enough to care for you as she would a child. I believe I am that woman, dearest boy!"
He held her tight in his arms and smiled.
"I not only think, I know you are."
For a long time they sat in silence, dreaming, loving, enjoying, and caring nothing for all the rest of the world. At last Claire raised her head from his shoulder and whispered, "Lawrence, before I would be separated from you, I am afraid I would kill!"
He chuckled merrily. "Good!" he said. "That sounds proper. So would I. We are alive because our ancestors killed to live, they fought to mate, so shall we, if need be."
She remembered Philip and shuddered slightly.
"What is the matter, Claire?" Lawrence drew her closer.
She did not answer. She was wondering how to tell him about Philip, and afraid.
"Are you filled with terror at the mere thought of murder!" he asked.
She moved uneasily in his arms. "No, but I can't say I like to even think of such a possibility."