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."
"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."
"I think he is," he said. "Certainly he thinks so, and comes near enough to proving his assertion."
She was both angry and pleased with his words.
"I never saw a man less handicapped by misfortune," she remarked.
"Lawrence seems all capable sense-nerves, and he is so very efficient with his touch. What a keen appreciation of beauty he has!"
"In the hills he used to describe scenes to me, and do it accurately just from their sound; running water and wind in the trees," she went on, not noticing Philip's short replies.
"He certainly has taught me a great deal about blindness."
"Do you know, I believe he is one of the most unusual men I have ever known."
"Doubtless. He is not the only topic of conversation our friendship permits, is he, Claire?"
She looked up at him, and rose immediately, her eyes flashing.
"I think you are more selfish with your theories of altruism than he with his egoism."
"Perhaps I am where the woman I love is concerned."
Claire turned away and walked angrily toward her room.
"I see you can't maintain a friendship," she exclaimed.
"Meaning, you cannot." Philip's voice was bitter.
"What do you mean?" she asked him, fearing.
"I mean that you are unfair. You ask me not to talk of my love, you wish to talk friendship, while you are forcing me by your every word and act to think of my own misery."