Part 29 (1/2)
They ate their supper in silence. Claire glanced at Philip occasionally and found in his eyes the antic.i.p.ated look of tender owners.h.i.+p. She let him slip out of her mind while she thought again of the afternoon when Lawrence had declared his creative principle. How dearly she would love to help him, to have him model his statue of her. He had said that she was savage and elemental underneath her polish. He had known, then, all the time. What a man he was! If only she knew how to find his love, to reawaken it. But no, he would never forget. Well, he would not have been able to care for her, anyway, she was so utterly sensual despite all her training in culture. He would want a more spiritual woman to fire his imagination to do great work. She tried to imagine what sort of woman would be best for his wife.
Lawrence stirred restlessly. She rose and went quickly to the bed. He was still asleep and she stood looking down at him. In her heart was a great tenderness and a great fear. What if he should die? Memories of their days in the woods swept over her in waves of love.
Abruptly she turned to Philip and said quietly: ”Philip, until I am your wife you must not touch me again.”
He looked up, startled, then smiled. ”I understand, my dear,” he said, ”I will not.”
She sat down at the table to wait for Lawrence's waking. It was late when he did, and immediately they realized that he was worse. Claire gave him some hot soup made from dried meal and helped Philip get him undressed and into bed.
”I'll put some blankets here and sleep on the floor beside him,” Philip whispered. ”I don't in the least mind, and I can help him if he wants help during the night.”
”Thank you,” Claire said gratefully. She felt indebted to this man for every kindness shown Lawrence.
Long before morning she was aroused by the sound of movements out there in the room.
”What is it?” she called softly.
”I am looking for something in which to heat water,” came Philip's voice.
She scrambled out of bed, drew on a few clothes, and went out. Lawrence was tossing on his bed and breathing heavily. She set to work heating the water herself, and sent Philip back to his blankets. There was a pleasure in doing this nursing for Lawrence. She felt glad that hers was the chance to care for him.
”You're to have the best nursing a sick man ever got, Lawrence,” she said, stooping over him tenderly.
He smiled faintly and whispered: ”Good, Claire.”
”You'll be well so quick you won't remember being ill.”
”I know,” he murmured huskily.
”What do you know?” she asked eagerly.
”I know, it's natural for you, this kindness.”
”Is that all you know, Lawrence?”
”About all, Claire. About all, yet.”
”Why do you say 'yet'?”
”I haven't thought it out yet.”
”What, Lawrence?”
”My platform, my work-bench for the future.”
She laughed, a little sadly. ”You would better stop thinking about that for a day or so, wouldn't you?”
”Perhaps. I can't, though.”