"But you have swept aside all moral law," protested Philip.
"What moral law is there that is external to me? What, indeed, is moral law?"
"That which makes for life, perhaps, as some one has said," offered Claire.
"For my life, yes. That which to me means life, is good. That which to me means less life, is bad."
"Yet you carried Claire through the mountains," Philip's voice was hard.
"Because I needed her, because she was essential to my life."
"Then you would have left her, had she been a hindrance?"
"That depends," answered Lawrence slowly. "Had she made my life uncertain when otherwise I might have lived, I think I would. Of course, if her being there merely increased my trouble, I should have brought her."
Claire was watching Philip's face. It was a study. On it there was something that made her heart beat faster, she found herself unable to tell why. She glanced at Lawrence. There he sat, his strong, stern face, calm and soulless. She wondered why blindness robbed this man of his rightful appearance. He had a soul, and it was a wild, beauty-loving soul, she knew, but blindness quite mantled it. On the other hand, Philip's was a mighty fire within, which shone in beauty through his eyes. Lawrence had quietly spoken of how he would have left her under other circumstances. Philip would have died at her side, she knew it. What a difference between them!
"But if you feel as you declare, why take that extra trouble to save her?" Philip asked.