Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham [181]
“I think you’re well out of it,” she said, when he had finished.
She had a funny way at times of holding her head on one side like an Aberdeen puppy. She was sitting in an upright chair, sewing, for she had no time for doing nothing, and Philip had made himself comfortable at her feet.
“I can’t tell you how heartily thankful I am it’s all over,” he sighed.
“Poor thing, you must have had a rotten time,” she murmured, and by way of showing her sympathy put her hand on his shoulder.
He took it and kissed it, but she withdrew it quickly.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, with a blush.
“Have you any objection?”
She looked at him for a moment with twinkling eyes, and she smiled.
“No,” she said.
He got up on his knees and faced her. She looked into his eyes steadily, and her large mouth trembled with a smile.
“Well?” she said.
“You know, you are a ripper. I’m so grateful to you for being nice to me. I like you so much.”
“Don’t be idiotic,” she said.
Philip took hold of her elbows and drew her towards him. She made no resistance, but bent forward a little, and he kissed her red lips.
“Why did you do that?” she asked again.
“Because it’s comfortable.”
She did not answer, but a tender look came into her eyes, and she passed her hand softly over his hair.
“You know, it’s awfully silly of you to behave like this. We were such good friends. It would be so jolly to leave it at that.”
“If you really want to appeal to my better nature,” replied Philip, “you’ll do well not to stroke my cheek while you’re doing it.”
She gave a little chuckle, but she did not stop.
“It’s very wrong of me, isn’t it?” she said.
Philip, surprised and a little amused, looked into her eyes, and as he looked he saw them soften and grow liquid, and there was an expression in them that enchanted him. His heart was suddenly stirred, and tears came to his eyes.
“Norah, you’re not fond of me, are you?” he asked, incredulously.
“You clever boy, you ask such stupid questions.”
“Oh, my dear, it never struck me that you could be.”
He flung his arms round her and kissed her, while she, laughing, blushing, and crying, surrendered herself willingly to his embrace.
Presently he released her and sitting back on his heels looked at her curiously.
“Well, I’m blowed!” he said.
“Why?”
“I’m so surprised.”
“And pleased?”
“Delighted,” he cried with all his heart, “and so proud and so happy and so grateful.”
He took her hands and covered them with kisses. This was the beginning for Philip of a happiness which seemed both solid and durable. They became lovers but remained friends. There was in Norah a maternal instinct which received satisfaction in her love for Philip; she wanted someone to pet, and scold, and make a fuss of; she had a domestic temperament and found pleasure in looking after his health and his linen. She pitied his deformity, over which he was so sensitive, and her pity expressed itself instinctively in tenderness. She was young, strong, and healthy, and it seemed quite natural to her to give her love. She had high spirits and a merry soul. She liked Philip because he laughed with her at all the amusing things in life that caught her fancy, and above all she liked him because he was he.
When she told him this he answered gaily:
“Nonsense. You like me because I’m a silent person and never want to get a word in.”
Philip did not love her at all. He was extremely fond of her, glad to be with her, amused and interested by her conversation. She restored his belief in himself and put healing ointments,