Tears of vexation came to Claire's eyes. "Oh, I do wish you'd be reasonable," she said, half angrily, half pleadingly. "Don't you understand that I am giving you more frank friendship than ever I gave any man in my life? Isn't that of any value to you? Don't you realize how unfair you have been to Lawrence?"
His face grew suddenly white, as he said, "Do you love him, Claire?"
She did not look away from him. "If I did, would it concern you?"
He took one step toward her, then stopped.
"Yes, it would," he answered.
Her anger almost mastered her, but she controlled herself.
"Philip, are we two irrational animals going to spoil everything? I had hoped you might at least allow our companionship to live."
He looked at her without answering. Finally, he choked, "Don't—don't, Claire, I have the right to know."
"If I promise to tell you when there is anything to tell, will you be satisfied?" She felt no scruple of conscience at her pretense of indifference to Lawrence, only a sense of protection for him. She did not know from what she was protecting him, but the feeling gave her a strange pleasure.
"I will," Philip returned, simply.