"He has gone out for a walk, I suppose. Doubtless, he will be back soon." His voice was indifferent. "Will you not sit down, Claire? You stand there looking about you as though you had lost something."
She was on the point of saying she had, but checked herself, and accepted the chair.
"It's so unusual. He never did this before." Claire forced a smile.
"Well, he will be the better for it; I am glad that he has gone out," Philip answered.
"I know, but it is so difficult for him to find his way through the snow," she said. "He told me it muffles sounds until he is almost helpless in it. His feet can't feel the ground, and he doesn't know which way to turn."
"He cannot possibly go far, and he cannot get lost." Philip's tone was becoming a little edged.
"All the same, it worries me to have him out this way."
Philip started toward the door.
"Shall I go search for him?" His voice, unknown to himself, was heavy.
Claire glanced at him quickly. Her intuition told her he was jealous, and she saw he was angry. She wanted to shout at him, "Go find Lawrence!" and she was surprised at the sudden panicky nervousness that seized her. But she rose calmly and crossed to the fireplace, saying as she sat down, "No, thank you; I think he is able to take care of himself."