Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham [188]
Philip worshipped him as at school he had worshipped boys who were tall and straight and high of spirits. By the time he was well they were fast friends, and it was a peculiar satisfaction to Philip that Griffiths seemed to enjoy sitting in his little parlor, wasting Philip’s time with his amusing chatter and smoking innumerable cigarettes. Philip took him sometimes to the tavern off Regent Street. Hayward found him stupid, but Lawson recognized his charm and was eager to paint him; he was a picturesque figure with his blue eyes, white skin, and curly hair. Often they discussed things he knew nothing about, and then he sat quietly, with a good-natured smile on his handsome face, feeling quite rightly that his presence was sufficient contribution to the entertainment of the company. When he discovered that Macalister was a stockbroker he was eager for tips; and Macalister, with his grave smile, told him what fortunes he could have made if he had bought certain stock at certain times. It made Philip’s mouth water, for in one way and another he was spending more than he had expected, and it would have suited him very well to make a little money by the easy method Macalister suggested.
“Next time I hear of a really good thing I’ll let you know,” said the stockbroker. “They do come along sometimes. It’s only a matter of biding one’s time.”
Philip could not help thinking how delightful it would be to make fifty pounds, so that he could give Norah the furs she so badly needed for the winter. He looked at the shops in Regent Street and picked out the articles he could buy for the money. She deserved everything. She made his life very happy.
LXIX
One afternoon, when he went back to his rooms from the hospital to wash and tidy himself before going to tea as usual with Norah, as he let himself in with his latch-key, his landlady opened the door for him.
“There’s a lady waiting to see you,” she said.
“Me?” exclaimed Philip.
He was surprised. It would only be Norah, and he had no idea what had brought her.
“I shouldn’t ’ave let her in, only she’s been three times, and she seemed that upset at not finding you, so I told her she could wait.”
He pushed past the explaining landlady and burst into the room. His heart turned sick. It was Mildred. She was sitting down, but got up hurriedly as he came in. She did not move toward him nor speak. He was so surprised that he did not know what he was saying.
“What the hell d’you want?” he asked.
She did not answer, but began to cry. She did not put her hands to her eyes, but kept them hanging by the side of her body. She looked like a housemaid applying for a situation. There was a dreadful humility in her bearing. Philip did not know what feelings came over him. He had a sudden impulse to turn round and escape from the room.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said at last.
“I wish I was dead,” she moaned.
Philip left her standing where she was. He could only think at the moment of steadying himself. His knees were shaking. He looked at her, and he groaned in despair.
“What’s the matter?” he said.
“He’s left me—Emil.”
Philip’s heart bounded. He knew then that he loved her as passionately as ever. He had never ceased to love her. She was standing before him humble and unresisting. He wished to take her in his arms and cover her tear-stained face with kisses. Oh, how long the separation had been! He did not know how he could have endured it.
“You’d better sit down. Let me give you a drink.”
He drew the chair near the fire and she sat in it. He mixed her whisky and soda, and, sobbing still, she drank it. She looked at him with great, mournful eyes. There were large black lines under them. She was thinner and whiter than when last he had seen her.
“I wish I’d married you when you asked me,” she said.
Philip did not know why the remark seemed to swell his heart. He could not keep the distance from her which he had forced upon himself. He put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m awfully sorry you’re in trouble.”
She leaned her