Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham [233]
“How long have you been in bed?”
“Three days.”
“D’you mean to say you’ve had nothing but a bottle of milk for the last three days? Why on earth didn’t you send me a line? I can’t bear to think of you lying here all day long without a soul to attend to you. ”
Cronshaw gave a little laugh.
“Look at your face. Why, dear boy, I really believe you’re distressed. You nice fellow.”
Philip blushed. He had not suspected that his face showed the dismay he felt at the sight of that horrible room and the wretched circumstances of the poor poet. Cronshaw, watching Philip, went on with a gentle smile.
“I’ve been quite happy. Look, here are my proofs. Remember that I am indifferent to discomforts which would harass other folk. What do the circumstances of your life matter if your dreams make you lord paramount of time and space.”
The proofs were lying on his bed, and as he lay in the darkness he had been able to place his hands on them. He showed them to Philip and his eyes glowed. He turned over the pages, rejoicing in the clear type; he read out a stanza.
“They don’t look bad, do they?”
Philip had an idea. It would involve him in a little expense and he could not afford even the smallest increase in expenditure; but on the other hand this was a case where it revolted him to think of economy.
“I say, I can’t bear the thought of your remaining here. I’ve got an extra room, it’s empty at present, but I can easily get someone to lend me a bed. Won’t you come and live with me for a while? It’ll save you the rent of this. ”
“Oh, my dear boy, you’d insist on my keeping my window open. ”
“You shall have every window in the place sealed if you like.”
“I shall be all right tomorrow. I could have got up today, only I felt lazy.”
“Then you can very easily make the move. And then if you don’t feel well at any time you can just go to bed, and I shall be there to look after you.”
“If it’ll please you I’ll come,” said Cronshaw, with his torpid not unpleasant smile.
“That’ll be ripping.”
They settled that Philip should fetch Cronshaw next day, and Philip snatched an hour from his busy morning to arrange the change. He found Cronshaw dressed, sitting in his hat and great-coat on the bed, with a small, shabby portmanteau, containing his clothes and books, already packed: it was on the floor by his feet, and he looked as if he were sitting in the waiting-room of a station. Philip laughed at the sight of him. They went over to Kennington in a four-wheeler, of which the windows were carefully closed, and Philip installed his guest in his own room. He had gone out early in the morning and bought for himself a second-hand bedstead, a cheap chest of drawers, and a looking-glass. Cronshaw settled down at once to correct his proofs. He was much better.
Philip found him, except for the irritability which was a symptom of his disease, an easy guest. He had a lecture at nine in the morning, so did not see Cronshaw till the night. Once or twice Philip persuaded him to share the scrappy meal he prepared for himself in the evening, but Cronshaw was too restless to stay in, and preferred generally to get himself something to eat in one or other of the cheapest restaurants in Soho. Philip asked him to see Dr. Tyrell, but he stoutly refused; he knew a doctor would tell him to stop drinking, and this he was resolved not to do. He always felt horribly ill in the morning, but his absinthe at midday put him on his feet again, and by the time he came home, at midnight, he was able to talk with the brilliancy which had astonished Philip when first he made his acquaintance. His proofs were corrected; and the volume was to come out among the publications of the early spring, when the public might be supposed to have recovered from the avalanche of Christmas books.
LXXXIV
At the new year Philip became dresser in the surgical outpatients’ department. The work was of the same character as that which