Chapter 92

第九十二章

翌日是星期二。同往常一样，菲利普扒拉了两口早饭后，便连奔带跑地去赶九点钟的课。因此，他只能同米尔德丽德三言两语打个招呼，没时间多说话。黄昏时分，他从医院回到寓所，发现米尔德丽德凭窗而坐，双手在不停地补缀他的袜子。

"哟，你倒蛮勤俭的嘛，"菲利普满面春风地说。"你这一天干了些啥呀？"

"哦，我把房间彻底打扫了一下，然后抱着孩子出去溜达了一会儿。"

此刻，米尔德丽德身上穿了件陈旧的黑上衣。这还是她当初在茶食店里干活时穿的制服，旧是旧了些，不过穿上它要比穿前天那件绸衣裙显得精神些。那女孩坐在地板上，仰着头，忽闪着一对神秘的大眼睛瞅着菲利普。当菲利普蹲下去坐在她身边抚弄她的光脚丫时，她突然格格笑了起来。斜阳西照，房间里充满缕缕柔和的光线。

"一回来看到屋里有人走动，真叫人心里感到乐滋滋的。一个女人，外加一个孩子，倒把房间点缀得富有生气。"

菲利普从医院药房搞回来一瓶布劳氏丸，交给了米尔德丽德，并嘱咐她每餐饭后一定要服用。这种药她已经用惯了，因为打十六岁起，她就断断续续地吃了不少。

"劳森肯定会喜欢上你这泛着绿色的皮肤，"菲利普说道。"他一定会说你这皮肤很有画头。但是近日来我倒挺担忧的，你的皮肤一天不变得像挤奶女工那样白里透红，我心里一天也不会好受。""

"我已经觉得好多了。"

吃过饭菜简单的晚餐之后，菲利普便往烟草袋里装满烟丝，然后戴上帽子。星期二晚上，他一般都要到皮克大街上的那家酒菜馆去，而今晚他高兴的是自从米尔德丽德来到他这儿，转眼又是星期二了，因为他想借此机会向米尔德丽德明白无误地表明他俩之间的关系。

"你要出去吗？"米尔德丽德问道。

"是的，每逢星期二，我总是要出去玩一个晚上。我们明天见。祝你晚安。"

菲利普总是怀着一种兴奋的心情上这家酒菜馆。那位颇有哲学家头脑的证券经纪人马卡利斯特是那儿的常客，天底下任何一件事情，他都要与人争个长短。海沃德只要人在伦敦也常到那儿去，虽然他同马卡利斯特两人相互都讨厌对方，但他们却一反常态，每逢星期二晚上都上这家酒菜馆会上一面。马卡利斯特认为海沃德是个可怜的家伙，对他那多愁善感的气质嗤之以鼻；他用讥讽挖苦的口吻询问海沃德创作文学作品的情况，当海沃德含糊其词地回答说不久将有杰作面世时，他听后总是报之以嘲弄的微笑。他们俩争论起来十分激烈，说起话来都颇有分量，对此，他们俩都很欣赏。夜间酒馆聚首临近结束时，他俩一般都能弥合分歧，握手言欢，相互认为对方是顶呱呱的一流人才。这天晚上，菲利普发觉除了他们两位外，劳森也在场。随着在伦敦结识的人越来越多，劳森经常于夜间外出就餐，因此很少到这家酒菜馆来。他们三位在一起谈笑风生，气氛十分融洽，因为马卡利斯特通过证券交易所为他们两位捞了笔外快，海沃德和劳森各得了五十英镑。对劳森来说，这五十英镑非同小可，因为他进帐不大，可花起钱来倒是大手大脚的。此时，劳森已达到了画人物肖像画的阶段，并受到了评论界的普遍关注，同时他还发现为数不少的贵妇人更乐于不掏一个子儿端坐着让他画肖像（无论是对那些贵妇人还是对劳森本人来说，这种做法都是做广告的绝好机会，同时也为那些贵妇人赢来了艺术保护人的声誉）。但是，劳森很少能找到个傻瓜肯出一大笔钱让劳森给他的夫人画肖像画的。尽管如此，劳森还是感到心满意足。

"这倒是个绝妙的赚钱办法，以前我从来没想到过，"劳森喜滋滋地嚷道，"我甚至连六便士的本钱都不必掏。"

"年轻人，你上星期二没上这儿来，可失掉了一个极好的机会，"马卡利斯特对菲利普说。

"老天爷，你为啥不写信告诉找呢？"菲利普接着说，"要知道一百镑对我有多大的用处啊！"

"喔，那会儿时间来不及了。人得呆在现场。上星期二我听到了一个好消息，便问他们两个家伙是否也想试一试。星期三上午我为他们买进了一千股，下午行情就看涨了，于是我赶紧把股票抛出去。这样，我为他们两人各赚得五十镑，而我自己得了两三百镑。"

菲利普心里充满了妒意。近来他把最后一张抵押契据卖了，这张抵押契据是他的全部财产，眼下就剩了六百英镑现款了。有时候，一想到今后的日子，菲利普心里不觉栖惶。他还得读两年才能取得当医生的资格，此后他得设法在医院找个职位，这样一来，至少有三年的光景，他别指望能赚得一个子儿。就是他紧缩开支，过最俭朴的生活，到那时，他手头至多只剩百把英镑。百把英镑的积蓄微乎其微，万一生病不能挣钱或者什么时候找不到工作，那日子就更难打发了。因此，玩上一玩可带来幸运的赌博，对他来说，那情形就完全不同啦。

"哦，嗯，别着急，"马卡利斯特说，"机会很快就会有的。几天之内，南非国家很快就会出现股票行情暴涨，到时候我一定为你好生留意着就是了。

马卡利斯特当时正在南非矿山股票市场干事，他常常给他们讲起一两年以前股票行情暴涨时发大财的故事。

"好吧，下次可别忘了我呀。"

他们围坐在一起高谈阔论，不觉已到子夜时分。菲利普住得最远，首先告辞。如果赶不上最后一班电车，他就得步行，那样回到寓所就很迟了。事实上，将近十二点半光景，他才回到寓所。他上得楼来，发觉米尔德丽德仍旧坐在他的安乐椅里，感到十分诧异。

"你为什么还不上床睡觉？"菲利普大声嚷着。

"我不困。"

"就是不困，也该上床躺着，这一样可以得到休息嘛！"

她一动不动地坐在安乐椅里。菲利普注意到晚饭后她又换上了那件黑色绸衣裙。

"我想我还是等着你，万一你需要拿个东西什么的。"

米尔德丽德说罢两眼直勾勾地望着他，两片毫无血色的嘴唇隐隐约约露出一丝笑意。菲利普自己也拿不准他是否理解了她的用意。他只觉得有点儿尴尬，似还是装出一到快活的、漫不经心的样子。

"你这样做是好的，但也太淘气了。快给我睡觉去，要不明天早晨就爬不起来了。"

"我还不想上床睡觉。"

"扯淡，"菲利普冷冷地说了一声。

米尔德丽德从安乐椅里站了起来，绷着脸儿，走进了她的卧室。当耳边传来她沉重的锁门声时，菲利普脸上绽开了笑容。

以后的几天倒平安无事地过去了。米尔德丽德随遇而安，在这陌生的环境中定居下来了。菲利普匆匆赶去上课之后，她一上午就在寓所操持家务。他们吃的很简单。不过，她就喜欢为了买些许必不可少的食品而在街上磨蹭个老半天。她不能自己想吃什么就做什么，但尽管如此，她还是给自己煮杯可可喝喝，弄些奶油和面包啃啃。享受过后，便用小人车推着孩子上街溜达，然后回到寓所，百无聊赖地打发下午余下的时光。她心力交瘁，然而只做几件轻便的家务活儿还是合适的。菲利普把房租钱交由米尔德丽德去付，借此她同菲利普的令人生畏的房东太太交上了朋友，而且不出一个星期，她居然能够给菲利普聊聊左邻右舍的情况，了解的情况之多，远远超过了菲利普一年中所知道的。

"她可是位非常好的太太，"米尔德丽德对菲利普说，"简直像个贵妇人。我告诉她说我们是夫妻。"

"你认为有此必要吗？"

"嗯，我总得对她说点什么呀。我人住在这儿而又不是你的妻子，这事叫人看来不是太可笑了吗？我不知道她对我会有什么看法。"

"我想她根本不相信你说的话。"

"她肯定相信，我敢打赌。我告诉她说我们结婚已两年了--要知道，由于有了这个孩子，我只好这么说--只有你那儿的人才会不相信，因为你还是个学生。因此，我们得瞒着不让别人知道，不过现在他们的看法也改变了，因为我们将要跟他们一道去海滨消暑。"

"你可是个编造荒诞故事的老手罗，"菲利普说了一句。

看到米尔德丽德撒谎的劲头仍不减当初，菲利普心中隐隐有些反感。在过去的两年中，她可什么教训都没记取。但是当着米尔德丽德的面，他只是耸了耸肩膀。

"归根结蒂一句话，"菲利普暗自思忖，"她运气不佳。"

这是个美丽的夜晚，夜空无一丝云彩，天气温暖宜人，伦敦南部地区的人们似乎倾巢而出，都涌到了街上。周围有一种使得那些伦敦佬坐立不安的气氛，而每当天气突然变化，这种气氛总是唆使伦敦佬走出家门来到户外。米尔德丽德收拾好饭桌以后，便走到窗口跟前，凭窗眺望。街上的喧闹声迎面扑来，人们相互的呼唤声、来往车辆的呼啸声、远处一架手转风琴的乐曲声，纷纷从窗口灌进房间，送进他俩的耳中。

"菲利普，我想今晚你非看书不可，对不？"米尔德丽德问菲利普，脸上现出渴望的神情。

"我应该看书。不过，我不晓得为什么我非看不可。嘿，你想叫我干点别的什么事吗？"

"我很想出去散散心。难道我们就不能去坐在电车顶上溜它一圈吗？"

"随你的便。"

"我这就去戴帽子，"她兴高采烈地说。

在这样的夜晚，人们要耐住性子呆在家里是不可能的。那孩子早已进入温柔的梦乡，留她在家决不会有什么问题的。米尔德丽德说以前夜里外出就常常把孩子一人扔在家里，她可从来没醒过。米尔德丽德戴好帽子回来时，心里别提有多高兴了。她还抓紧时间往脸上搽了点胭脂。而菲利普还以为她是太激动了，苍白的面颊才升起了两朵淡淡的红晕呢。看到她高兴得像个孩子似的，菲利普真地动了感情，还暗暗责备起自己待她太苛刻来了。来到户外时，她开心地哈哈笑了起来。他们一看到驶往威斯敏斯特大桥的电车，便跳了上去。菲利普嘴里衔着烟斗，同米尔德丽德一道注视着车窗外人头攒动的街道。一家家商店开着，灯光通明，人们忙着为第二天采购食品。当电车驶过一家叫做坎特伯雷的杂耍剧场时，米尔德丽德迫不及待地喊了起来：

"哦，菲利普，我们一定得上那儿去看看，我可有好久没上杂耍剧场了。"

"我们可买不起前排正厅座位的票，这你是知道的。"

"喔，我才不计较呢，就是顶层楼座我也够高兴的了。"

他们俩下了电车，往回走了百把码的路，才来到杂耍剧场门口。他们花了十二便士买了两个极好的座位，座位在高处，但决不是顶层楼座。这晚他们运气真好，剧场里有不少空位置呢。米尔德丽德双眸烟烟闪光，感到快活极了。她身上有种纯朴的气质打动了菲利普的心。她对菲利普来说是个猜不透的谜。她身上某些东西至今对菲利普仍不无吸引力，菲利普认为她身上还有不少好的地方。米尔德丽德从小没有教养，她人生坎坷；他还为了许多连她本人也无法可想的事情去责备她。如果他要求从她那里得到她自己也无力给予的贞操，那是他自己的过错。要是她生长在另一种生存环境里，她完全可能出落成一个妩媚可爱的姑娘。她根本不堪人生大搏斗的冲击。此刻，菲利普凝睇着她的侧影，只见她的嘴微微张着，双颊升起两朵淡淡的红晕，他认为她看上去出人意料的圣洁。一朋遏制不住的怜悯之情涌上他的心头，他诚心诚意地宽有她给自己带来了苦难的罪过。剧场里烟雾腾腾，使得菲利普的两眼发痛，但是当他对米尔德丽德提议回家时，她却转过脸来，一脸的恳求人的神色，请求他陪她呆到终场。菲利普粲然一笑，同意了。米尔德丽德握住了菲利普的手，一直握到表演结束。当他们汇入观众人流走出剧场来到熙熙攘攘的街上时，米尔德丽德还无意返回寓所。于是，他们俩比肩漫步来到威斯敏斯特大街上立在那儿，凝眸望着熙来攘往的人群。

"几个月来我还没有这么痛快过呢，"米尔德丽德说。

菲利普感到心满意足。他一时情不自禁地要把米尔德丽德及其女儿领到自己的寓所，而现在已变成了现实，为此，他对命运之神充满了感激的心情。看到她表示善意的感激之情，他打心眼里感到高兴。最后米尔德丽德终于累了，他们跳上一辆电车返回寓所。此时夜已深了，当他们步下电车，拐入寓所所在的街道时，街上空荡荡的阒无一人。这当儿，米尔德丽德悄悄地挽起了菲利普的胳膊。

"这倒有点像过去的情景了，菲尔，"米尔德丽德说道。

以前她从来没有叫过他菲尔，只有格里菲思一人这样叫过，即使是现在，一听到这一称呼，一种莫可名状的剧痛便袭上心来。他还记得当初他痛心疾首欲求一死的情景。那会儿，巨大的痛苦实难忍受，他还颇为认真地考虑过自杀来着。这一切似乎都是遥远的往事罗。他想起过去的自己时，不觉莞尔。眼下，他对米尔德丽德只有满腔的怜悯之情，除此别无任何其他感情可言。他们来到寓所跟前。步入起居间之后，菲利普随手点亮了煤气灯。

"孩子好吗？"他口中问道。

"我这就去瞧瞧她。"

米尔德丽德回到起居间，并说打她走了之后，那孩子睡得一直很香甜，连动也没动。这孩子可真乖！菲利普向米尔德丽德伸出一只手，并说：

"嗯，晚安。"

"你这就去睡觉吗？"

"都快一点啦。近来我不习惯睡得很迟，"菲利普答道。

米尔德丽德抓起了他的手，一边紧紧地攥着，一边笑眯眯地望着他的眼睛。

"菲尔，那天夜里在那个房间里，你叫我上这儿来同你呆在一起，你说你只要我给你做些烧饭之类的事情，除此之外，你不想我做别的什么。就在那会儿，我脑子里想的事情同你认为我在想的事情，可不是一码事啊。"

"是吗？"菲利普说着，从米尔德丽德的手中抽回自己的手。"我可是这样想的。"

"别这样傻里傻气的啦，"米尔德丽德哈哈笑着说。

菲利普摇了摇头。

"我是很认真的。我决不会提出任何别的条件来让你呆在这儿的。"

"为什么不呢？"

"我觉得我不能那么做。这种事我解释不了，不过它会把全盘事情搞懵的。"

米尔德丽德耸了耸双肩。

"唔，很好，那就随你的便吧。不过，我决不会为此跪下来求你的。我可不是那种人！"

说罢，她走出起居间，随手砰地带上身后的房门。
 

The following day was Tuesday. Philip as usual hurried through his breakfast and dashed off to get to his lecture at nine. He had only time to exchange a few words with Mildred. When he came back in the evening he found her seated at the window, darning his socks.

‘I say, you are industrious,’ he smiled. ‘What have you been doing with yourself all day?’

‘Oh, I gave the place a good cleaning and then I took baby out for a little.’

She was wearing an old black dress, the same as she had worn as uniform when she served in the tea-shop; it was shabby, but she looked better in it than in the silk of the day before. The baby was sitting on the floor. She looked up at Philip with large, mysterious eyes and broke into a laugh when he sat down beside her and began playing with her bare toes. The afternoon sun came into the room and shed a mellow light.

‘It’s rather jolly to come back and find someone about the place. A woman and a baby make very good decoration in a room.’

He had gone to the hospital dispensary and got a bottle of Blaud’s Pills, He gave them to Mildred and told her she must take them after each meal. It was a remedy she was used to, for she had taken it off and on ever since she was sixteen.

‘I’m sure Lawson would love that green skin of yours,’ said Philip. ‘He’d say it was so paintable, but I’m terribly matter of fact nowadays, and I shan’t be happy till you’re as pink and white as a milkmaid.’

‘I feel better already.’

After a frugal supper Philip filled his pouch with tobacco and put on his hat. It was on Tuesdays that he generally went to the tavern in Beak Street, and he was glad that this day came so soon after Mildred’s arrival, for he wanted to make his relations with her perfectly clear.

‘Are you going out?’ she said.

‘Yes, on Tuesdays I give myself a night off. I shall see you tomorrow. Good-night.’

Philip always went to the tavern with a sense of pleasure. Macalister, the philosophic stockbroker, was generally there and glad to argue upon any subject under the sun; Hayward came regularly when he was in London; and though he and Macalister disliked one another they continued out of habit to meet on that one evening in the week. Macalister thought Hayward a poor creature, and sneered at his delicacies of sentiment: he asked satirically about Hayward’s literary work and received with scornful smiles his vague suggestions of future masterpieces; their arguments were often heated; but the punch was good, and they were both fond of it; towards the end of the evening they generally composed their differences and thought each other capital fellows. This evening Philip found them both there, and Lawson also; Lawson came more seldom now that he was beginning to know people in London and went out to dinner a good deal. They were all on excellent terms with themselves, for Macalister had given them a good thing on the Stock Exchange, and Hayward and Lawson had made fifty pounds apiece. It was a great thing for Lawson, who was extravagant and earned little money: he had arrived at that stage of the portrait-painter’s career when he was noticed a good deal by the critics and found a number of aristocratic ladies who were willing to allow him to paint them for nothing (it advertised them both, and gave the great ladies quite an air of patronesses of the arts); but he very seldom got hold of the solid philistine who was ready to pay good money for a portrait of his wife. Lawson was brimming over with satisfaction.

‘It’s the most ripping way of making money that I’ve ever struck,’ he cried. ‘I didn’t have to put my hand in my pocket for sixpence.’

‘You lost something by not being here last Tuesday, young man,’ said Macalister to Philip.

‘My God, why didn’t you write to me?’ said Philip. ‘If you only knew how useful a hundred pounds would be to me.’

‘Oh, there wasn’t time for that. One has to be on the spot. I heard of a good thing last Tuesday, and I asked these fellows if they’d like to have a flutter, I bought them a thousand shares on Wednesday morning, and there was a rise in the afternoon so I sold them at once. I made fifty pounds for each of them and a couple of hundred for myself.’

Philip was sick with envy. He had recently sold the last mortgage in which his small fortune had been invested and now had only six hundred pounds left. He was panic-stricken sometimes when he thought of the future. He had still to keep himself for two years before he could be qualified, and then he meant to try for hospital appointments, so that he could not expect to earn anything for three years at least. With the most rigid economy he would not have more than a hundred pounds left then. It was very little to have as a stand-by in case he was ill and could not earn money or found himself at any time without work. A lucky gamble would make all the difference to him.

‘Oh, well, it doesn’t matter,’ said Macalister. ‘Something is sure to turn up soon. There’ll be a boom in South Africans again one of these days, and then I’ll see what I can do for you.’

Macalister was in the Kaffir market and often told them stories of the sudden fortunes that had been made in the great boom of a year or two back.

‘Well, don’t forget next time.’

They sat on talking till nearly midnight, and Philip, who lived furthest off, was the first to go. If he did not catch the last tram he had to walk, and that made him very late. As it was he did not reach home till nearly half past twelve. When he got upstairs he was surprised to find Mildred still sitting in his arm-chair.

‘Why on earth aren’t you in bed?’ he cried.

‘I wasn’t sleepy.’

‘You ought to go to bed all the same. It would rest you.’

She did not move. He noticed that since supper she had changed into her black silk dress.

‘I thought I’d rather wait up for you in case you wanted anything.’

She looked at him, and the shadow of a smile played upon her thin pale lips. Philip was not sure whether he understood or not. He was slightly embarrassed, but assumed a cheerful, matter-of-fact air.

‘It’s very nice of you, but it’s very naughty also. Run off to bed as fast as you can, or you won’t be able to get up tomorrow morning.’

‘I don’t feel like going to bed.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said coldly.

She got up, a little sulkily, and went into her room. He smiled when he heard her lock the door loudly.

The next few days passed without incident. Mildred settled down in her new surroundings. When Philip hurried off after breakfast she had the whole morning to do the housework. They ate very simply, but she liked to take a long time to buy the few things they needed; she could not be bothered to cook anything for her dinner, but made herself some cocoa and ate bread and butter; then she took the baby out in the gocart, and when she came in spent the rest of the afternoon in idleness. She was tired out, and it suited her to do so little. She made friends with Philip’s forbidding landlady over the rent, which he left with Mildred to pay, and within a week was able to tell him more about his neighbours than he had learned in a year.

‘She’s a very nice woman,’ said Mildred. ‘Quite the lady. I told her we was married.’

‘D’you think that was necessary?’

‘Well, I had to tell her something. It looks so funny me being here and not married to you. I didn’t know what she’d think of me.’

‘I don’t suppose she believed you for a moment.’

‘That she did, I lay. I told her we’d been married two years—I had to say that, you know, because of baby—only your people wouldn’t hear of it, because you was only a student’—she pronounced it stoodent—‘and so we had to keep it a secret, but they’d given way now and we were all going down to stay with them in the summer.’

‘You’re a past mistress of the cock-and-bull story,’ said Philip.

He was vaguely irritated that Mildred still had this passion for telling fibs. In the last two years she had learnt nothing. But he shrugged his shoulders.

‘When all’s said and done,’ he reflected, ‘she hasn’t had much chance.’

It was a beautiful evening, warm and cloudless, and the people of South London seemed to have poured out into the streets. There was that restlessness in the air which seizes the cockney sometimes when a turn in the weather calls him into the open. After Mildred had cleared away the supper she went and stood at the window. The street noises came up to them, noises of people calling to one another, of the passing traffic, of a barrel-organ in the distance.

‘I suppose you must work tonight, Philip?’ she asked him, with a wistful expression.

‘I ought, but I don’t know that I must. Why, d’you want me to do anything else?’

‘I’d like to go out for a bit. Couldn’t we take a ride on the top of a tram?’

‘If you like.’

‘I’ll just go and put on my hat,’ she said joyfully.

The night made it almost impossible to stay indoors. The baby was asleep and could be safely left; Mildred said she had always left it alone at night when she went out; it never woke. She was in high spirits when she came back with her hat on. She had taken the opportunity to put on a little rouge. Philip thought it was excitement which had brought a faint colour to her pale cheeks; he was touched by her child-like delight, and reproached himself for the austerity with which he had treated her. She laughed when she got out into the air. The first tram they saw was going towards Westminster Bridge and they got on it. Philip smoked his pipe, and they looked at the crowded street. The shops were open, gaily lit, and people were doing their shopping for the next day. They passed a music-hall called the Canterbury and Mildred cried out:

‘Oh, Philip, do let’s go there. I haven’t been to a music-hall for months.’

‘We can’t afford stalls, you know.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind, I shall be quite happy in the gallery.’

They got down and walked back a hundred yards till they came to the doors. They got capital seats for sixpence each, high up but not in the gallery, and the night was so fine that there was plenty of room. Mildred’s eyes glistened. She enjoyed herself thoroughly. There was a simple-mindedness in her which touched Philip. She was a puzzle to him. Certain things in her still pleased him, and he thought that there was a lot in her which was very good: she had been badly brought up, and her life was hard; he had blamed her for much that she could not help; and it was his own fault if he had asked virtues from her which it was not in her power to give. Under different circumstances she might have been a charming girl. She was extraordinarily unfit for the battle of life. As he watched her now in profile, her mouth slightly open and that delicate flush on her cheeks, he thought she looked strangely virginal. He felt an overwhelming compassion for her, and with all his heart he forgave her for the misery she had caused him. The smoky atmosphere made Philip’s eyes ache, but when he suggested going she turned to him with beseeching face and asked him to stay till the end. He smiled and consented. She took his hand and held it for the rest of the performance. When they streamed out with the audience into the crowded street she did not want to go home; they wandered up the Westminster Bridge Road, looking at the people.

‘I’ve not had such a good time as this for months,’ she said.

Philip’s heart was full, and he was thankful to the fates because he had carried out his sudden impulse to take Mildred and her baby into his flat. It was very pleasant to see her happy gratitude. At last she grew tired and they jumped on a tram to go home; it was late now, and when they got down and turned into their own street there was no one about. Mildred slipped her arm through his.

‘It’s just like old times, Phil,’ she said.

She had never called him Phil before, that was what Griffiths called him; and even now it gave him a curious pang. He remembered how much he had wanted to die then; his pain had been so great that he had thought quite seriously of committing suicide. It all seemed very long ago. He smiled at his past self. Now he felt nothing for Mildred but infinite pity. They reached the house, and when they got into the sitting-room Philip lit the gas.

‘Is the baby all right?’ he asked.

‘I’ll just go in and see.’

When she came back it was to say that it had not stirred since she left it. It was a wonderful child. Philip held out his hand.

‘Well, good-night.’

‘D’you want to go to bed already?’

‘It’s nearly one. I’m not used to late hours these days,’ said Philip.

She took his hand and holding it looked into his eyes with a little smile.

‘Phil, the other night in that room, when you asked me to come and stay here, I didn’t mean what you thought I meant, when you said you didn’t want me to be anything to you except just to cook and that sort of thing.’

‘Didn’t you?’ answered Philip, withdrawing his hand. ‘I did.’

‘Don’t be such an old silly,’ she laughed.

He shook his head.

‘I meant it quite seriously. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay here on any other condition.’

‘Why not?’

‘I feel I couldn’t. I can’t explain it, but it would spoil it all.’

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘Oh, very well, it’s just as you choose. I’m not one to go down on my hands and knees for that, and chance it.’

She went out, slamming the door behind her.