"I will be that friend, Claire," he said, earnestly.
She took his hand, her mind breaking with relief. She felt she was going to cry, and she leaned forward to hide her filling eyes.
"Oh, Philip, God bless you! You do not know what this means to me! You will never know. I thank you, I thank you!"
The tears rushed down her cheeks and dropped upon their clasped hands.
"Claire, don't, please—please don't," Philip pleaded, anguish in his tone.
She stopped, forced back her sobs, and smiled at him.
"Philip Ortez," she said, "I shall make you glad of this."
Deep in his heart, the words gave him hope. He grasped at them as a drowning man at a life-belt, but he did not voice the hope.
"I want to spend much of my time with you, Philip, in the out-of-doors. I must do it, and it is such a relief to know that I can do it without—without fear. You will be just my friend, won't you?"
"If it is in my power, I will." He spoke as a knight of old, taking a holy vow, and in his heart was the deep, sacred sense of the spirit that still moved in his idealistic soul.