Chapter 74

第七十四章

在紧接着的那周的星期六，米尔德丽德回到了伦敦。当晚，菲利普一直陪伴在她身边。他上歌剧院订了两个座位。晚餐时，他们俩还饮啜了香槟酒呢。米尔德丽德在伦敦已有多年，但这么开心她还是头一次，于是，她便尽情享受了一番生活的乐趣。戏院散场后，他们便雇了辆马车，朝平利科大街驶去，菲利普在那儿为她租了个房间。一路上，米尔德丽德蜷缩着身子躺在菲利普的怀里。

"我深信你见到我一定很高兴，"菲利普说。

米尔德丽德没有吱声，只是温存地攥了攥菲利普的手。对米尔德丽德来说，柔情的外露是罕见的，因此，经她这么一攥，菲利普不觉心旌飘摇了。

"我已邀请格里菲思同我们一道吃饭，"菲利普告诉她说。

"喔，你这样做我很高兴。我老早就想同他见见面了。"

星期天晚上城里没有什么娱乐场所可以带米尔德丽德去的。菲利普唯恐米尔德丽德整天同他呆在一块会感觉腻味。他想起了格里菲思，此人一举一动无不逗人发笑，可以为他们俩消磨这一夜晚助兴。菲利普对格里菲思和米尔德丽德两人都很喜欢，真希望他们俩相互结识，并且喜欢上对方。菲利普走时对米尔德丽德说：

"还只有六天时间了。"

他们预先包了罗曼诺餐馆顶层楼上的雅座。这顿佳肴丰盛而且可口，看上去远远超过了他们支付的饭钱。菲利普同米尔德丽德先到，只得坐下来等候格里菲思。

"他这个老兄历来不准时，"菲利普开腔说，"他的情人多得数不清，眼下兴许正在同她们中间的一个鬼混哩！"

但是，菲利普的话音刚落，格里菲思飘然而至。他是个瘦高个儿，长得倒挺俊的。一颗脑袋同他整个身材适成比例，给人以一种不可一世的神气，倒蛮引人注目的。他那头鬈发，那双大胆、热情的蓝眼睛，还有那张鲜红的嘴，无不具有迷人的魅力。菲利普发现米尔德丽德饶有兴味地凝睇着格里菲思，心中升腾起一种莫可名状的满足。格里菲思对着他们俩粲然一笑，算是打了个招呼。

"你的事儿我听说了不少，"在同米尔德丽德握手的当儿，格里菲思对她说。

"怕的是还没有我听到有关你的事儿多吧，"她回了一句。

"也没有你那么环，"菲利普补了一句。

"他是不是一直在败环我的名声呀？"

格里菲思说罢哈哈大笑。此刻，菲利普看见米尔德丽德注意到格里菲思那口牙齿是多么的洁白整齐，他那笑靥又是那么的悦人。

"你们俩理应像对老朋友一样相处，"菲利普说，"我已经分别为你们俩作了一番详尽的介绍了。"

今晚，格里菲思的心境是最好不过了，因为他终于通过了结业考试，取得了当医生的资格，并于不久前被委任为伦敦北部的一家医院的住院外科医生。他将于五月初赴任，在此之前他准备返回乡里度假。这一周是他在伦敦的最后一周，于是他决心趁此机会痛痛快快地乐上一乐。他又讲开了他那些妙趣横生的无稽之谈，对此，菲利普却赞叹不已，因为他自己就是模仿也模仿不起来。他的话多半没什么意义，不过他说话时那股活泼劲儿给他的话添加了分量。说话间，一种活力宛若一股涓涓细流从他口中淌出，凡是同他熟识的人，无不为之感动，就好比身上流过了一股暖流。米尔德丽德那种欢天喜地的样子，菲利普前所未见。眼看到由自己一手张罗的小小聚会颇为成功，菲利普感到很是高兴。米尔德丽德着实快活了一番。她的笑声越来越高，完全忘却了业已成为她第二天性的那种矜持斯文的淡漠表情。

这时，格里菲思说：

"喂，要我称呼你米勒太太还真不习惯呢。菲利普一向只叫你米尔德丽德。"

"你真那样称呼她，她大概不至于会把你的眼珠给抠出来的，"菲利普笑呵呵地说。

"那她得叫我哈利。"

在他们俩闲聊的时候，菲利普默默地坐在一旁暗自思忖，看到别人精神愉快确是件非常有趣的事儿。格里菲思不时地将菲利普戏弄一番，当然是出自一番好意罗，因为他这个人一向是正经八百、不苟言笑的。

"我想他一定很喜欢你，菲利普，"米尔德丽德笑吟吟地说。

"他这个老伙计人可不坏，"格里菲思一面接口说道，一面抓起菲利普的手快乐地摇晃着。

格里菲思喜欢菲利普这件事似乎使得他更富有魅力。他们可都是饮食有度的人儿，几滴酒下肚，其力直冲脑门。格里菲思的话越来越多，竟到了口若悬河的地步；菲利普虽觉有趣，但也不得不出来恳求他有所收敛。他有讲故事的天赋，在叙述的过程中，他把他那些富有传奇色彩的风流韵事、逗人发笑的妙处渲染得淋漓尽致。在这些艳遇中，他都是扮演了一个奔放不羁、幽默风趣的角色。米尔德丽德双眸闪烁着激动的光芒，不住地敦促格里菲思继续往下讲。于是，他便倾诉了一则又一则轶事。当餐馆里的灯光渐渐隐去时，米尔德丽德不胜惊讶。

"哎呀，今晚过得好快啊。我还以为不到九点半呢。"

他们起身离座，步出餐馆。道别时，米尔德丽德又说：

"明天我上菲利普那儿用茶。可能的话，你不妨也来。"

"好的，"格里菲思笑眯眯地说。

在回平利科大街的路上，米尔德丽德还是口口声声不离格里菲思，完全为他的堂堂仪表、裁剪精美的衣服、说话的声音以及他那欢快的性格所陶醉。

"对你喜欢上他，我是很高兴的，"菲利普说。"起先你还觉得不屑同他见面呢。这你还记得吗？"

"菲利普，我认为他这个人真好，竟这么喜欢你。他确是你应该结交的好朋友。"

她朝菲利普仰起面孔，让他亲吻，这在她来说，却是少有的举动。

"菲利普，今晚过得很愉快。太感激你了。"

"别说那些混帐话，"他哈哈笑了起来。她的赞赏深深地打动了他的心，他感到双目湿润了。

她打开了房门，在进去前，她掉头对菲利普说：

"去告诉哈利，就说我狂热地爱上了他。"

"好的，"他笑呵呵地应着，"祝你晚安。"

翌日，正当他们俩在用茶点的时候，格里菲思一脚跨了进来，随即懒洋洋地坐进一张安乐椅里。他那粗手大脚慢腾腾的动作里流露出一种难以言表的性感。在格里菲思同米尔德丽德叽叽咕咕闲扯时，菲利普缄默不语。他对那两位充满了爱慕之情，因此，在他看来，他们俩相互爱慕，这也是十分自然的。即使格里菲思把米尔德丽德的心思吸引了过去，他也不在乎，因为到了晚上，米尔德丽德就全部属于他了。这时，他好比是一位对自己妻子的感情笃信不疑的温顺的丈夫，在一旁饶有兴味地看着妻子毫无危险地同一位陌生人调情。但是挨到七点半，他看了看手表，说：

"米尔德丽德，我们该出去吃饭了。"

房间里一阵沉默。格里菲思一副若有所思的样子。

"唔，我得走了，"格里菲思终于开口说，"没想到天已不早了。"

"今晚你有事吗？"米尔德丽德问道。

"事倒没什么。"

又是一阵沉默。菲利普心中有些儿不悦。

"我这就去解手，"菲利普说后，又对米尔德丽德说，"你要不要上厕所呀？"

她没有答理他。

"你为何不跟我们一道去吃饭呢？"她却对格里菲思这样说。

格里菲思望着菲利普，只见他目光阴沉地瞪视着自己。

"昨晚我随你们去吃了一顿，"格里菲思哈哈笑着说。"我去你们就不方便了。"

"哦，这没关系的，"米尔德丽德执著地说。"叫他一起去吧，菲利普。他去不碍事的，对不？"

"他愿去尽管去好了。"

"那好吧，"格里菲思立即接口说，"我这就上楼去梳理一下。"

他刚走出房间，菲利普便生气地对着米尔德丽德嚷道：

"你究竟为啥要叫他跟我们一块去吃饭呢？"

"我忍不住就说了。不过当他说他无事可做的时候，我们一声不吭，那不是太奇怪了吗。"

"喔，乱弹琴！那你又干吗要问他有没有事呢？"

米尔德丽德抿了抿嘴唇。

"有时候我想要一点乐趣。老是同你呆在一块，我就会发腻。"

他们听到了格里菲思下楼时发出的咚咚脚步声，于是菲利普转身走进卧室梳洗去了。他们就在附近一家意大利餐馆吃晚饭。菲利普气呼呼的一声不吭，但是他很快就意识到自己这副模样在格里菲思的面前显得很是不利，于是强忍下这满腹的怨气。他喝了一杯又一杯的酒，借酒浇灭烧灼他心的哀痛，还强打精神，间或也开口插上几句。米尔德丽德对自己刚才说的话感到内疚，便使出浑身解数以讨菲利普的欢心。她显得那么和颜悦色，那么含情脉脉。这倒叫菲利普责怪起自己太傻气，竟吃起醋来了。晚饭后，他们乘了辆马车上杂耍剧场，一路上，米尔德丽德还主动伸出手让他握着呢。此时，原先的那一股怨气早就飞到爪哇国去了。蓦地，不知怎地，他渐渐意识到与此同时格里菲思也握着她的另一只手。一阵痛楚再次猛烈地向心上袭来，这是一种灼人的切肤之痛。他内心惶惑不已，暗暗问自己一个以前兴许也会问的问题：米尔德丽德和格里菲思是否相互爱恋上了。他眼前仿佛飘浮着一团怀疑、忿懑、悲哀、沮丧的迷雾，台上的演出他啥也看不清，但他还是极力装出一副若无其事的样子，继续同他们俩又说又笑的。不一会儿，一种莫名其妙的要折磨自己的欲念攫住了他的心，他倏地站了起来，说他想出去喝点什么。米尔德丽德和格里菲思还不曾有机会单独相处过，他想让他们俩单独呆一会。

"我也去，"格里菲思说，"我也口渴得很。"

"喔，扯淡，你留下陪米尔德丽德说个话儿。"

菲利普自己也不知道怎么会说出这种话来的。他把他们俩撇在一边，使得内心的痛苦难以忍受。他并没有到酒吧间去，而是走上阳台，从那儿他可以监视他们而自己不被发觉。只见他们俩再也不看演出了，而是相视而笑。格里菲思还是同原来一样，眉飞色舞地侃侃而谈，而米尔德丽德则全神贯注地倾听着。菲利普只觉得头痛欲裂，一动不动地伫立在那儿。他知道自己再回去会碍事的。没有他，他们玩得很愉快，可他却备受折磨。时间飞逝而过，眼下他特别羞于再回到他们中间去。他心里明白，他们俩心目中压根儿就没他这个人。他不胜悲哀地想起今晚这顿晚饭钱以及剧场的票子还是他掏的腰包呢。他们俩把自己耍得好苦啊！他羞忿交加，不能自已。他看得出，没有他在旁边他们俩是多么的愉快。他本欲扔下他们径自回到自己的住所，但是他没拿帽子和外衣，再说自己这么一走，以后还得作没完没了的解释。他又回到自己的座位上。他发觉在米尔德丽德向自已投来的目光中隐隐流露出丝丝愠怒，他的心不由得一沉。

"你走了好一会儿了，"格里菲思说，脸上堆着次迎的微笑。

"我碰上了几位熟人，一攀谈上就难脱身。我想你们俩在一起一定很好。"

"我感到非常愉快，"格里菲思说，"就不知米尔德丽德是怎么想的。"

她发出一声短促的洋洋得意的笑声，笑声里透出丝丝俗不可耐的味儿，菲利普听了不觉为之悚然。他提议他们该回去了。

"喂，"格里菲思说，"我跟菲利普一同送你回去。"

菲利普疑心这种安排是米尔德丽德率先暗示的。这样，她可以避免由他单独送自己回去。在马车里，他没有拉她的手，而米尔德丽德也没有主动把手伸向他；可他知道她一路上却始终握着格里菲思的手。当时他最主要的想法是这一切简直鄙俗不堪。马车辚辚向前。他暗自纳闷，不知他们俩背着他作出了哪些幽会的安排，想到这儿，不禁诅咒起自己出走而给他们以可乘之机来了，事实上正是自己故意出走才促成他们这么做的。

"咱俩也乘马车回去，"当马车来到米尔德丽德的住地时，菲利普说，"我实在太累了，脚都抬不起来。"

在回他们寓所的路上，格里菲思谈笑风生，菲利普却受理不理的，态度冷淡地应答着，可格里菲思似乎毫不在乎。菲利普肚里思量，格里菲思想必注意到事有蹊跷了。最后，菲利普越来越沉默，格里菲思再也无法佯装不察了，顿时显得局促不安，戛然打住了话头。菲利普想说些什么，但又甚觉羞愧，难以启口。可是，机不可失，时不待人，最好趁此机会立刻弄清事情的真相。他硬逼着自己开了腔。

"你爱米尔德丽德吗？"他突然发问道。

"我？"格里菲思哈哈大笑，"今晚你老是阴阳怪气的，就是为了这个缘故吗？我当然不爱她，我亲爱的老兄。"

他说罢挽起菲利普的手臂，但菲利普却把身子移了开去。他心里明白，格里菲思是在撒谎。他不能强迫格里菲思告诉自己说他一直没有握米尔德丽德的手。突然间，他觉得全身瘫软，心力交瘁。

"哈利，这事对你来说无所谓，"他说道。"你已经玩了那么多女人，可千万不要把她从我身边夺走。这意味着我整个生命。我的境遇已经够惨的了。"

他的说话声也变得异样，语塞喉管，忍不住抽抽噎嘻地哭了起来。他赧颜满面，简直无地自容。

"亲爱的老伙计，我决不会干出任何伤害你的事来的，这你是知道的。我太喜欢你了，还不至于会于出那种荒唐事来。我只是逗着玩儿的。要是我早知道你为了这事会这么伤心，我早就小心行事了。"

"此话当真？"菲利普随即问道。

"她，我根本看不上眼。我以我的名誉担保。"

菲利普如释重负地叹了口气。马车戛然停在他们寓所的门前。
 

The following Saturday Mildred returned, and that evening Philip kept her to himself. He took seats for the play, and they drank champagne at dinner. It was her first gaiety in London for so long that she enjoyed everything ingenuously. She cuddled up to Philip when they drove from the theatre to the room he had taken for her in Pimlico.

‘I really believe you’re quite glad to see me,’ he said.

She did not answer, but gently pressed his hand. Demonstrations of affection were so rare with her that Philip was enchanted.

‘I’ve asked Griffiths to dine with us tomorrow,’ he told her.

‘Oh, I’m glad you’ve done that. I wanted to meet him.’

There was no place of entertainment to take her to on Sunday night, and Philip was afraid she would be bored if she were alone with him all day. Griffiths was amusing; he would help them to get through the evening; and Philip was so fond of them both that he wanted them to know and to like one another. He left Mildred with the words:

‘Only six days more.’

They had arranged to dine in the gallery at Romano’s on Sunday, because the dinner was excellent and looked as though it cost a good deal more than it did. Philip and Mildred arrived first and had to wait some time for Griffiths.

‘He’s an unpunctual devil,’ said Philip. ‘He’s probably making love to one of his numerous flames.’

But presently he appeared. He was a handsome creature, tall and thin; his head was placed well on the body, it gave him a conquering air which was attractive; and his curly hair, his bold, friendly blue eyes, his red mouth, were charming. Philip saw Mildred look at him with appreciation, and he felt a curious satisfaction. Griffiths greeted them with a smile.

‘I’ve heard a great deal about you,’ he said to Mildred, as he took her hand.

‘Not so much as I’ve heard about you,’ she answered.

‘Nor so bad,’ said. Philip.

‘Has he been blackening my character?’

Griffiths laughed, and Philip saw that Mildred noticed how white and regular his teeth were and how pleasant his smile.

‘You ought to feel like old friends,’ said Philip. ‘I’ve talked so much about you to one another.’

Griffiths was in the best possible humour, for, having at length passed his final examination, he was qualified, and he had just been appointed house-surgeon at a hospital in the North of London. He was taking up his duties at the beginning of May and meanwhile was going home for a holiday; this was his last week in town, and he was determined to get as much enjoyment into it as he could. He began to talk the gay nonsense which Philip admired because he could not copy it. There was nothing much in what he said, but his vivacity gave it point. There flowed from him a force of life which affected everyone who knew him; it was almost as sensible as bodily warmth. Mildred was more lively than Philip had ever known her, and he was delighted to see that his little party was a success. She was amusing herself enormously. She laughed louder and louder. She quite forgot the genteel reserve which had become second nature to her.

Presently Griffiths said:

‘I say, it’s dreadfully difficult for me to call you Mrs. Miller. Philip never calls you anything but Mildred.’

‘I daresay she won’t scratch your eyes out if you call her that too,’ laughed Philip.

‘Then she must call me Harry.’

Philip sat silent while they chattered away and thought how good it was to see people happy. Now and then Griffiths teased him a little, kindly, because he was always so serious.

‘I believe he’s quite fond of you, Philip,’ smiled Mildred.

‘He isn’t a bad old thing,’ answered Griffiths, and taking Philip’s hand he shook it gaily.

It seemed an added charm in Griffiths that he liked Philip. They were all sober people, and the wine they had drunk went to their heads. Griffiths became more talkative and so boisterous that Philip, amused, had to beg him to be quiet. He had a gift for story-telling, and his adventures lost nothing of their romance and their laughter in his narration. He played in all of them a gallant, humorous part. Mildred, her eyes shining with excitement, urged him on. He poured out anecdote after anecdote. When the lights began to be turned out she was astonished.

‘My word, the evening has gone quickly. I thought it wasn’t more than half past nine.’

They got up to go and when she said good-bye, she added:

‘I’m coming to have tea at Philip’s room tomorrow. You might look in if you can.’

‘All right,’ he smiled.

On the way back to Pimlico Mildred talked of nothing but Griffiths. She was taken with his good looks, his well-cut clothes, his voice, his gaiety.

‘I am glad you like him,’ said Philip. ‘D’you remember you were rather sniffy about meeting him?’

‘I think it’s so nice of him to be so fond of you, Philip. He is a nice friend for you to have.’

She put up her face to Philip for him to kiss her. It was a thing she did rarely.

‘I have enjoyed myself this evening, Philip. Thank you so much.’

‘Don’t be so absurd,’ he laughed, touched by her appreciation so that he felt the moisture come to his eyes.

She opened her door and just before she went in, turned again to Philip.

‘Tell Harry I’m madly in love with him,’ she said.

‘All right,’ he laughed. ‘Good-night.’

Next day, when they were having tea, Griffiths came in. He sank lazily into an arm-chair. There was something strangely sensual in the slow movements of his large limbs. Philip remained silent, while the others chattered away, but he was enjoying himself. He admired them both so much that it seemed natural enough for them to admire one another. He did not care if Griffiths absorbed Mildred’s attention, he would have her to himself during the evening: he had something of the attitude of a loving husband, confident in his wife’s affection, who looks on with amusement while she flirts harmlessly with a stranger. But at half past seven he looked at his watch and said:

‘It’s about time we went out to dinner, Mildred.’

There was a moment’s pause, and Griffiths seemed to be considering.

‘Well, I’ll be getting along,’ he said at last. ‘I didn’t know it was so late.’

‘Are you doing anything tonight?’ asked Mildred.

‘No.’

There was another silence. Philip felt slightly irritated.

‘I’ll just go and have a wash,’ he said, and to Mildred he added: ‘Would you like to wash your hands?’

She did not answer him.

‘Why don’t you come and dine with us?’ she said to Griffiths.

He looked at Philip and saw him staring at him sombrely.

‘I dined with you last night,’ he laughed. ‘I should be in the way.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ insisted Mildred. ‘Make him come, Philip. He won’t be in the way, will he?’

‘Let him come by all means if he’d like to.’

‘All right, then,’ said Griffiths promptly. ‘I’ll just go upstairs and tidy myself.’

The moment he left the room Philip turned to Mildred angrily.

‘Why on earth did you ask him to dine with us?’

‘I couldn’t help myself. It would have looked so funny to say nothing when he said he wasn’t doing anything.’

‘Oh, what rot! And why the hell did you ask him if he was doing anything?’

Mildred’s pale lips tightened a little.

‘I want a little amusement sometimes. I get tired always being alone with you.’

They heard Griffiths coming heavily down the stairs, and Philip went into his bed-room to wash. They dined in the neighbourhood in an Italian restaurant. Philip was cross and silent, but he quickly realised that he was showing to disadvantage in comparison with Griffiths, and he forced himself to hide his annoyance. He drank a good deal of wine to destroy the pain that was gnawing at his heart, and he set himself to talk. Mildred, as though remorseful for what she had said, did all she could to make herself pleasant to him. She was kindly and affectionate. Presently Philip began to think he had been a fool to surrender to a feeling of jealousy. After dinner when they got into a hansom to drive to a music-hall Mildred, sitting between the two men, of her own accord gave him her hand. His anger vanished. Suddenly, he knew not how, he grew conscious that Griffiths was holding her other hand. The pain seized him again violently, it was a real physical pain, and he asked himself, panic-stricken, what he might have asked himself before, whether Mildred and Griffiths were in love with one another. He could not see anything of the performance on account of the mist of suspicion, anger, dismay, and wretchedness which seemed to be before his eyes; but he forced himself to conceal the fact that anything was the matter; he went on talking and laughing. Then a strange desire to torture himself seized him, and he got up, saying he wanted to go and drink something. Mildred and Griffiths had never been alone together for a moment. He wanted to leave them by themselves.

‘I’ll come too,’ said Griffiths. ‘I’ve got rather a thirst on.’

‘Oh, nonsense, you stay and talk to Mildred.’

Philip did not know why he said that. He was throwing them together now to make the pain he suffered more intolerable. He did not go to the bar, but up into the balcony, from where he could watch them and not be seen. They had ceased to look at the stage and were smiling into one another’s eyes. Griffiths was talking with his usual happy fluency and Mildred seemed to hang on his lips. Philip’s head began to ache frightfully. He stood there motionless. He knew he would be in the way if he went back. They were enjoying themselves without him, and he was suffering, suffering. Time passed, and now he had an extraordinary shyness about rejoining them. He knew they had not thought of him at all, and he reflected bitterly that he had paid for the dinner and their seats in the music-hall. What a fool they were making of him! He was hot with shame. He could see how happy they were without him. His instinct was to leave them to themselves and go home, but he had not his hat and coat, and it would necessitate endless explanations. He went back. He felt a shadow of annoyance in Mildred’s eyes when she saw him, and his heart sank.

‘You’ve been a devil of a time,’ said Griffiths, with a smile of welcome.

‘I met some men I knew. I’ve been talking to them, and I couldn’t get away. I thought you’d be all right together.’

‘I’ve been enjoying myself thoroughly,’ said Griffiths. ‘I don’t know about Mildred.’

She gave a little laugh of happy complacency. There was a vulgar sound in the ring of it that horrified Philip. He suggested that they should go.

‘Come on,’ said Griffiths, ‘we’ll both drive you home.’

Philip suspected that she had suggested that arrangement so that she might not be left alone with him. In the cab he did not take her hand nor did she offer it, and he knew all the time that she was holding Griffiths’. His chief thought was that it was all so horribly vulgar. As they drove along he asked himself what plans they had made to meet without his knowledge, he cursed himself for having left them alone, he had actually gone out of his way to enable them to arrange things.

‘Let’s keep the cab,’ said Philip, when they reached the house in which Mildred was lodging. ‘I’m too tired to walk home.’

On the way back Griffiths talked gaily and seemed indifferent to the fact that Philip answered in monosyllables. Philip felt he must notice that something was the matter. Philip’s silence at last grew too significant to struggle against, and Griffiths, suddenly nervous, ceased talking. Philip wanted to say something, but he was so shy he could hardly bring himself to, and yet the time was passing and the opportunity would be lost. It was best to get at the truth at once. He forced himself to speak.

‘Are you in love with Mildred?’ he asked suddenly.

‘I?’ Griffiths laughed. ‘Is that what you’ve been so funny about this evening? Of course not, my dear old man.’

He tried to slip his hand through Philip’s arm, but Philip drew himself away. He knew Griffiths was lying. He could not bring himself to force Griffiths to tell him that he had not been holding the girl’s hand. He suddenly felt very weak and broken.

‘It doesn’t matter to you, Harry,’ he said. ‘You’ve got so many women—don’t take her away from me. It means my whole life. I’ve been so awfully wretched.’

His voice broke, and he could not prevent the sob that was torn from him. He was horribly ashamed of himself.

‘My dear old boy, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I’m far too fond of you for that. I was only playing the fool. If I’d known you were going to take it like that I’d have been more careful.’

‘Is that true?’ asked Philip.

‘I don’t care a twopenny damn for her. I give you my word of honour.’

Philip gave a sigh of relief. The cab stopped at their door.