Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham.mobi [203]
“There’s the dress and the book tomorrow. That’s all. Harry won’t come, so we shan’t want money for that.”
Philip’s heart gave a great thud against his ribs, and he let the door-handle go. The door swung to.
“Why not?”
“He says we couldn’t, not on your money.”
A devil seized Philip, a devil of self-torture which was always lurking within him, and, though with all his soul he wished that Griffiths and Mildred should not go away together, he could not help himself; he set himself to persuade Griffiths through her.
“I don’t see why not, if I’m willing,” he said.
“That’s what I told him.”
“I should have thought if he really wanted to go he wouldn’t hesitate.”
“Oh, it’s not that, he wants to all right. He’d go at once if he had the money.”
“If he’s squeamish about it I’ll give you the money.”
“I said you’d lend it if he liked, and we’d pay it back as soon as we could.”
“It’s rather a change for you going on your knees to get a man to take you away for the week-end.”
“It is rather, isn’t it?” she said, with a shameless little laugh.
It sent a cold shudder down Philip’s spine.
“What are you going to do then?” he asked.
“Nothing. He’s going home tomorrow. He must.”
That would be Philip’s salvation. With Griffiths out of the way he could get Mildred back. She knew no one in London, she would be thrown on to his society, and when they were alone together he could soon make her forget this infatuation. If he said nothing more he was safe. But he had a fiendish desire to break down their scruples, he wanted to know how abominably they could behave towards him; if he tempted them a little more they would yield, and he took a fierce joy at the thought of their dishonor. Though every word he spoke tortured him, he found in the torture a horrible delight.
“It looks as if it were now or never.”
“That’s what I told him,” she said.
There was a passionate note in her voice which struck Philip. He was biting his nails in his nervousness.
“Where are you thinking of going?”
“Oh, to Oxford. He was at the ’Varsity there, you know. He said he’d show me the colleges.”
Philip remembered that once he had suggested going to Oxford for the day, and she had expressed firmly the boredom she felt at the thought of sights.
“And it looks as if you’d have fine weather. It ought to be very jolly there just now.”
“I’ve done all I could to persuade him.”
“Why don’t you have another try?”
“Shall I say you want us to go?”
“I don’t think you must go as far as that,” said Philip.
She paused for a minute or two, looking at him. Philip forced himself to look at her in a friendly way. He hated her, he despised her, he loved her with all his heart.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go and see if he can’t arrange it. And then, if he says yes, I’ll come and fetch the money tomorrow. When shall you be in?”
“I’ll come back here after luncheon and wait.”
“All right.”
“I’ll give you the money for your dress and your room now.”
He went to his desk and took out what money he had. The dress was six guineas; there was besides her rent and her food, and the baby’s keep for a week. He gave her eight pounds ten.
“Thanks very much,” she said.
She left him.
LXXVII
After lunching in the basement of the Medical School Philip went back to his rooms. It was Saturday afternoon, and the landlady was cleaning the stairs.
“Is Mr. Griffiths in?” he asked.
“No, sir. He went away this morning, soon after you went out.”
“Isn’t he coming back?”
“I don’t think so, sir. He’s taken his luggage.”
Philip wondered what this could mean. He took a book and began to read. It was Burton’s Journey to Meccah, which he had just got out of the Westminster Public Library; and he read the first page, but could make no sense of it, for his mind was elsewhere; he was listening all the time for a ring at the bell. He dared not hope that Griffiths had gone away already, without Mildred, to his home in Cumberland. Mildred would be coming presently for the money. He set his teeth and read on; he tried desperately to concentrate his attention; the sentences etched themselves in his brain by the force of his effort, but they were distorted by the agony he was enduring. He wished with all his heart that he had not made the horrible proposition to give them money; but now that he had made it he lacked the strength to go back on it, not on Mildred