Claire Part 37

"You think you are advanced because you are still unaware of anything but beasthood!"

Lawrence grinned complacently.

"I am always amused at the way men speak of beasts as if they were something base," he said. "'Beast' should not be a term of opprobrium.

The average dog or elephant, for example, is fairly wholesome and quite naturally proper in his fulfilment of instincts. It is more than one can say for men. Yes, I am a beast, if by that you you mean a physical being; and if humanity ever does get anywhere in quest for a soul I suspect it will have to start from that very admission."

"Of course"--Philip hesitated a little--"we are animals in that sense.

But who can think of us as nothing more? Take Claire, for example. We both know her better than any one else. I could scarcely think of her as an animal, subject only to its instincts. Even allowing that she is a very intelligent animal, it isn't all or even the better part of her, any more than it is of any good woman."

The speech was self-revealing, and Lawrence smiled.

"Now, it is strange," he observed; "that is precisely the way I should think of Claire if I wanted to see her in the best possible light, as the most splendidly intelligent, healthy animal I ever knew."

"You are more insulting than you intend. I am glad that you do not mean to be," Philip growled.

"Tra-la-la. I shouldn't insult her for a good deal."

"Yet your att.i.tude is debasing," Philip retorted.

"Oh, well, perhaps. She has my apology if she thinks so."

"But you can't actually mean what you say," Philip went on. "Your att.i.tude would lead you to make a cave of your home, and a mere lair of your bed."

"Which, by the way, very elaborately arranged, and embellished with thousands of psychological phases, products of the most highly specialized part of me, is exactly what my home would be."

"Well, I certainly should deplore your household."

"Go as far as you like. It ought to be a fairly comfortable home, with its basis on frankness, oughtn't it, Claire?"

Philip's eyes flashed.

Claire hesitated, fearing lest she provoke him further, and said cautiously: "Yes, it ought to be based on frankness."

"But frankness doesn't mean an att.i.tude of mind like that," Philip protested.

"What does it mean?" Lawrence asked.

"It means an established order where love makes it possible for two beings to speak their thoughts freely one to the other," Philip said, with the air of defining infinity.

"Does it? Well, if that is frankness by definition, I have known many women with whom I was in love, but neither they nor I knew it until this minute."

Lawrence laughed. Philip flushed, shrugged his shoulders, and stood up.

"I thank goodness I do not see things as you do," he said.

"Even the parable of the Pharisee has its modern aspect," Lawrence murmured chucklingly.

Philip stood looking moodily across the lake, and fortunately did not catch his words.

"I think I shall walk a little," he said coldly. "I can't sleep until I have walked some of your conversation out of my soul."

"Go to it," Lawrence said with a smile. "I didn't mean to corrupt you."

"You didn't. You simply make me angry. I'm sorry, but you do."

"Yes? So am I. However, it won't last much longer, Philip."

Both men smiled at the thoughts that came with those words.

"I think I shall go in," Lawrence went on. "I shall want sleep for the big start to-morrow."

Philip looked hopefully at Claire. She rose with a sigh of weariness, pretending not to see him.

"So shall I," she said. "Good night, both of you."

She was gone into the cabin, and Philip looked disappointed. He turned down the lake sh.o.r.e, dreaming of the end of his journey, rebelling at the necessity for Claire to listen to Lawrence's talk, and rejoicing at how different his life with her would be.

Inside the cabin, Lawrence closed the door and stepped into the room.

Claire stood waiting silently before him, and when he came to her, she threw her arms happily around his neck. He laughed and caught her up.

"So you lie in wait for me, do you?" he teased.

"Why not? I want to capture my man," she said softly.

"You have him, dearest. And, by the way"--he sat down and drew her on to the arm of his chair--"permit me to extend you my sympathy for the suffering you must have experienced at the thought of living with Philip."

She shuddered a little, and laughed.

"Such frankness as his home would permit!" she said. "I'm afraid our hearth would not radiate warmth."

"Nothing could warm such a home into anything like the real thing,"

Lawrence mused. "It was my privilege when in college to stay for a time in a home where the people had really attained the ideal. It was the only home that ever made me envious."

"I shall make you such a home, dear," she whispered.

"No, we will have a mere cave, a lair," he laughed.

She shook her long hair down over his face playfully.

"Will you be a savage old cave man?" she asked.

"I shall. As savage as they ever made them in the golden age," he answered, and drew her down against him.

"I shall like that," she said, her eyes full of a warm, dreamy light.

"You will be terribly abused by your beast husband," Lawrence said gaily.

"I think sometimes, Lawrence, that I could enjoy being hurt by your hands--having them really cause me pain."