"And in the mean time will you help me pull him out of his slough of despond?" she asked, smiling with the old, frank, intimate manner.
"Surely I will, though I confess I do not see the way."
"Then shall we go at once and begin our cheering process, my friend?" she said, as though she were conferring a favor by the use of the word.
He winced at her immediate application of his promise.
"Perhaps we would better," he answered sadly, and turned toward the cabin.
As she walked by his side she had already dismissed him from her attention and was busy planning what she might do to make Lawrence happy.
When they entered the cabin, Claire looked eagerly about the room. As she glanced around, her face clouded. Lawrence was gone. His coat and hat were not on the rack, and the cane which he had carved one day from a stick which she had brought him from the woods was also missing.
Claire walked slowly into the room, her mind filled with an unaccountable apprehension.
"Why, how abandoned the place seems without Lawrence! Where is he, I wonder?" She tried to appear casual.
Philip followed her in and placed a chair for her. His mind, already touched with the potential jealousy that Claire's talk had begun, leaped ahead at her words and he felt more than ever doubtful of her attitude toward Lawrence. Though he quickly dispelled his fear, the thought left behind, as such things do, the readier soil for a stronger weed to spring up in.