"I don't agree with you," she answered Philip, a little shortly.
"Well then, what is my lady's diagnosis?" He had not noticed her curt reply, for he was thinking of something else and was not really interested in Lawrence as a topic of conversation.
Claire was unable to answer; she disliked both his tone and his expression, but she had nothing to substitute for his explanation.
They walked on in silence for a few minutes through the trees before she ventured a little lamely, "I don't know what to say."
Philip looked up, smilingly. "To say about what, Claire?" Then he remembered, and continued hastily, "Oh, pardon me. I know, of course. About Lawrence. If I could suggest anything to do, I would. He is an interesting friend, but I have nothing to offer. It seems to me that we can do no more than to let him alone. He will work it out for himself. If he does not, we cannot help. He would not expect us to do so."
"That's no reason we shouldn't try," she flashed, "unless, of course, you quite agree with his argument after all."
Philip colored slightly and said, "I admit the fault, Claire, but what can we do?"
"Couldn't you get him to tell what's the matter?" she asked, groping for something to say.
"No more than you could. Perhaps even less easily. You know him better than I and understand him better."
She laughed, a little satisfaction warming her at his words. "Sometimes I think I understand him, sometimes I know I don't. As he himself would say, it is merely a matter of blind psychology, is it not?"
"It is not," she answered positively. "It's more a matter of artist psychology, I think."
"Perhaps," he admitted; "certainly the combination is difficult."
"I do wish we could do something for him."
"He would be better off if he would come out with us, but since he will not, he will not." Philip's tone showed clearly that he was inclined to let the matter drop.
But not so Claire. "You are willing to help me, aren't you, Philip?"
"Why yes, if there is any way in which I can be of service."
"That is useless, I fear," he said abruptly, his own wishes revolting against sacrificing his companionship with Claire or against sharing it with Lawrence.
"He was unhesitating in his care for me those days we wandered," she remarked simply.