Hot anger surged up in her. "You needn't bother," she said dryly. "Our lives are so utterly different in every phase that nothing could be gained."
He lay back carelessly. "So I had decided," he replied, and lapsed into silence again.
She could have cried with vexation. For the first time in her life Claire was utterly humiliated, and there grew within her an aggressive dislike for this man, a determination to make him feel her power and to punish him for his indifference. She did not want him to love her, by any means, but he had never even shown her the courteous deference, the admiration or regard that she was accustomed to receive from men. Her mind went back over the past week, and she grew more humiliated, more angry. Tears of vexation came to her eyes, but she brushed them away fiercely.
"Shall we take the remains of our meat and move on toward the habitats of men?" said Lawrence, sitting up.
She controlled herself to answer, "As you please."
He stooped to lift her into his arms. She flushed 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.