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 before the fire.
His dark eyes looked searchingly at her.
"If you knew the path to peace," he said, "you would be happier. I see that I must take you out with me and teach you the hidden entrance to that mystic roadway."