Chapter LVI

by William Somerset Maugham

　　He could not get her out of his mind. He laughed angrily at his ownfoolishness: it was absurd to care what an anaemic little waitress said tohim; but he was strangely humiliated. Though no one knew of thehumiliation but Dunsford, and he had certainly forgotten, Philip felt thathe could have no peace till he had wiped it out. He thought over what hehad better do. He made up his mind that he would go to the shop every day;it was obvious that he had made a disagreeable impression on her, but hethought he had the wits to eradicate it; he would take care not to sayanything at which the most susceptible person could be offended. All thishe did, but it had no effect. When he went in and said good-evening sheanswered with the same words, but when once he omitted to say it in orderto see whether she would say it first, she said nothing at all. Hemurmured in his heart an expression which though frequently applicable tomembers of the female sex is not often used of them in polite society; butwith an unmoved face he ordered his tea. He made up his mind not to speaka word, and left the shop without his usual good-night. He promisedhimself that he would not go any more, but the next day at tea-time hegrew restless. He tried to think of other things, but he had no commandover his thoughts. At last he said desperately:"After all there's no reason why I shouldn't go if I want to."The struggle with himself had taken a long time, and it was getting on forseven when he entered the shop."I thought you weren't coming," the girl said to him, when he sat down.His heart leaped in his bosom and he felt himself reddening. "I wasdetained. I couldn't come before.""Cutting up people, I suppose?""Not so bad as that.""You are a stoodent, aren't you?""Yes."But that seemed to satisfy her curiosity. She went away and, since at thatlate hour there was nobody else at her tables, she immersed herself in anovelette. This was before the time of the sixpenny reprints. There was aregular supply of inexpensive fiction written to order by poor hacks forthe consumption of the illiterate. Philip was elated; she had addressedhim of her own accord; he saw the time approaching when his turn wouldcome and he would tell her exactly what he thought of her. It would be agreat comfort to express the immensity of his contempt. He looked at her.It was true that her profile was beautiful; it was extraordinary howEnglish girls of that class had so often a perfection of outline whichtook your breath away, but it was as cold as marble; and the faint greenof her delicate skin gave an impression of unhealthiness. All thewaitresses were dressed alike, in plain black dresses, with a white apron,cuffs, and a small cap. On a half sheet of paper that he had in his pocketPhilip made a sketch of her as she sat leaning over her book (she outlinedthe words with her lips as she read), and left it on the table when hewent away. It was an inspiration, for next day, when he came in, shesmiled at him."I didn't know you could draw," she said."I was an art-student in Paris for two years.""I showed that drawing you left be'ind you last night to the manageressand she was struck with it. Was it meant to be me?""It was," said Philip.When she went for his tea, one of the other girls came up to him."I saw that picture you done of Miss Rogers. It was the very image ofher," she said.That was the first time he had heard her name, and when he wanted his billhe called her by it."I see you know my name," she said, when she came."Your friend mentioned it when she said something to me about thatdrawing.""She wants you to do one of her. Don't you do it. If you once begin you'llhave to go on, and they'll all be wanting you to do them." Then without apause, with peculiar inconsequence, she said: "Where's that young fellowthat used to come with you? Has he gone away?""Fancy your remembering him," said Philip."He was a nice-looking young fellow."Philip felt quite a peculiar sensation in his heart. He did not know whatit was. Dunsford had jolly curling hair, a fresh complexion, and abeautiful smile. Philip thought of these advantages with envy."Oh, he's in love," said he, with a little laugh.Philip repeated every word of the conversation to himself as he limpedhome. She was quite friendly with him now. When opportunity arose he wouldoffer to make a more finished sketch of her, he was sure she would likethat; her face was interesting, the profile was lovely, and there wassomething curiously fascinating about the chlorotic colour. He tried tothink what it was like; at first he thought of pea soup; but, driving awaythat idea angrily, he thought of the petals of a yellow rosebud when youtore it to pieces before it had burst. He had no ill-feeling towards hernow."She's not a bad sort," he murmured.It was silly of him to take offence at what she had said; it was doubtlesshis own fault; she had not meant to make herself disagreeable: he ought tobe accustomed by now to making at first sight a bad impression on people.He was flattered at the success of his drawing; she looked upon him withmore interest now that she was aware of this small talent. He was restlessnext day. He thought of going to lunch at the tea-shop, but he was certainthere would be many people there then, and Mildred would not be able totalk to him. He had managed before this to get out of having tea withDunsford, and, punctually at half past four (he had looked at his watch adozen times), he went into the shop.Mildred had her back turned to him. She was sitting down, talking to theGerman whom Philip had seen there every day till a fortnight ago and sincethen had not seen at all. She was laughing at what he said. Philip thoughtshe had a common laugh, and it made him shudder. He called her, but shetook no notice; he called her again; then, growing angry, for he wasimpatient, he rapped the table loudly with his stick. She approachedsulkily."How d'you do?" he said."You seem to be in a great hurry."She looked down at him with the insolent manner which he knew so well."I say, what's the matter with you?" he asked."If you'll kindly give your order I'll get what you want. I can't standtalking all night.""Tea and toasted bun, please," Philip answered briefly.He was furious with her. He had The Star with him and read itelaborately when she brought the tea."If you'll give me my bill now I needn't trouble you again," he saidicily.She wrote out the slip, placed it on the table, and went back to theGerman. Soon she was talking to him with animation. He was a man of middleheight, with the round head of his nation and a sallow face; his moustachewas large and bristling; he had on a tail-coat and gray trousers, and hewore a massive gold watch-chain. Philip thought the other girls lookedfrom him to the pair at the table and exchanged significant glances. Hefelt certain they were laughing at him, and his blood boiled. He detestedMildred now with all his heart. He knew that the best thing he could dowas to cease coming to the tea-shop, but he could not bear to think thathe had been worsted in the affair, and he devised a plan to show her thathe despised her. Next day he sat down at another table and ordered his teafrom another waitress. Mildred's friend was there again and she wastalking to him. She paid no attention to Philip, and so when he went outhe chose a moment when she had to cross his path: as he passed he lookedat her as though he had never seen her before. He repeated this for threeor four days. He expected that presently she would take the opportunity tosay something to him; he thought she would ask why he never came to one ofher tables now, and he had prepared an answer charged with all theloathing he felt for her. He knew it was absurd to trouble, but he couldnot help himself. She had beaten him again. The German suddenlydisappeared, but Philip still sat at other tables. She paid no attentionto him. Suddenly he realised that what he did was a matter of completeindifference to her; he could go on in that way till doomsday, and itwould have no effect."I've not finished yet," he said to himself.The day after he sat down in his old seat, and when she came up saidgood-evening as though he had not ignored her for a week. His face wasplacid, but he could not prevent the mad beating of his heart. At thattime the musical comedy had lately leaped into public favour, and he wassure that Mildred would be delighted to go to one."I say," he said suddenly, "I wonder if you'd dine with me one night andcome to The Belle of New York. I'll get a couple of stalls."He added the last sentence in order to tempt her. He knew that when thegirls went to the play it was either in the pit, or, if some man tookthem, seldom to more expensive seats than the upper circle. Mildred's paleface showed no change of expression."I don't mind," she said."When will you come?""I get off early on Thursdays."They made arrangements. Mildred lived with an aunt at Herne Hill. The playbegan at eight so they must dine at seven. She proposed that he shouldmeet her in the second-class waiting-room at Victoria Station. She showedno pleasure, but accepted the invitation as though she conferred a favour.Philip was vaguely irritated.