Chapter LXVI

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip worked well and easily; he had a good deal to do, since he wastaking in July the three parts of the First Conjoint examination, two ofwhich he had failed in before; but he found life pleasant. He made a newfriend. Lawson, on the lookout for models, had discovered a girl who wasunderstudying at one of the theatres, and in order to induce her to sit tohim arranged a little luncheon-party one Sunday. She brought a chaperonwith her; and to her Philip, asked to make a fourth, was instructed toconfine his attentions. He found this easy, since she turned out to be anagreeable chatterbox with an amusing tongue. She asked Philip to go andsee her; she had rooms in Vincent Square, and was always in to tea at fiveo'clock; he went, was delighted with his welcome, and went again. Mrs.Nesbit was not more than twenty-five, very small, with a pleasant, uglyface; she had very bright eyes, high cheekbones, and a large mouth: theexcessive contrasts of her colouring reminded one of a portrait by one ofthe modern French painters; her skin was very white, her cheeks were veryred, her thick eyebrows, her hair, were very black. The effect was odd, alittle unnatural, but far from unpleasing. She was separated from herhusband and earned her living and her child's by writing penny novelettes.There were one or two publishers who made a specialty of that sort ofthing, and she had as much work as she could do. It was ill-paid, shereceived fifteen pounds for a story of thirty thousand words; but she wassatisfied."After all, it only costs the reader twopence," she said, "and they likethe same thing over and over again. I just change the names and that'sall. When I'm bored I think of the washing and the rent and clothes forbaby, and I go on again."Besides, she walked on at various theatres where they wanted supers andearned by this when in work from sixteen shillings to a guinea a week. Atthe end of her day she was so tired that she slept like a top. She madethe best of her difficult lot. Her keen sense of humour enabled her to getamusement out of every vexatious circumstance. Sometimes things wentwrong, and she found herself with no money at all; then her triflingpossessions found their way to a pawnshop in the Vauxhall Bridge Road, andshe ate bread and butter till things grew brighter. She never lost hercheerfulness.Philip was interested in her shiftless life, and she made him laugh withthe fantastic narration of her struggles. He asked her why she did not tryher hand at literary work of a better sort, but she knew that she had notalent, and the abominable stuff she turned out by the thousand words wasnot only tolerably paid, but was the best she could do. She had nothing tolook forward to but a continuation of the life she led. She seemed to haveno relations, and her friends were as poor as herself."I don't think of the future," she said. "As long as I have enough moneyfor three weeks' rent and a pound or two over for food I never bother.Life wouldn't be worth living if I worried over the future as well as thepresent. When things are at their worst I find something always happens."Soon Philip grew in the habit of going in to tea with her every day, andso that his visits might not embarrass her he took in a cake or a pound ofbutter or some tea. They started to call one another by their Christiannames. Feminine sympathy was new to him, and he delighted in someone whogave a willing ear to all his troubles. The hours went quickly. He did nothide his admiration for her. She was a delightful companion. He could nothelp comparing her with Mildred; and he contrasted with the one'sobstinate stupidity, which refused interest to everything she did notknow, the other's quick appreciation and ready intelligence. His heartsank when he thought that he might have been tied for life to such a womanas Mildred. One evening he told Norah the whole story of his love. It wasnot one to give him much reason for self-esteem, and it was very pleasantto receive such charming sympathy."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 anAberdeen puppy. She was sitting in an upright chair, sewing, for she hadno time to do nothing, and Philip had made himself comfortable at herfeet."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 ofshowing 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 noresistance, 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 passedher hand softly over his hair."You know, it's awfully silly of you to behave like this. We were suchgood 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 helooked he saw them soften and grow liquid, and there was an expression inthem that enchanted him. His heart was suddenly stirred, and tears came tohis 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 hercuriously."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 andso grateful."He took her hands and covered them with kisses. This was the beginning forPhilip of a happiness which seemed both solid and durable. They becamelovers but remained friends. There was in Norah a maternal instinct whichreceived satisfaction in her love for Philip; she wanted someone to pet,and scold, and make a fuss of; she had a domestic temperament and foundpleasure in looking after his health and his linen. She pitied hisdeformity, over which he was so sensitive, and her pity expressed itselfinstinctively in tenderness. She was young, strong, and healthy, and itseemed quite natural to her to give her love. She had high spirits and amerry soul. She liked Philip because he laughed with her at all theamusing things in life that caught her fancy, and above all she liked himbecause 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 geta word in."Philip did not love her at all. He was extremely fond of her, glad to bewith her, amused and interested by her conversation. She restored hisbelief in himself and put healing ointments, as it were, on all thebruises of his soul. He was immensely flattered that she cared for him. Headmired her courage, her optimism, her impudent defiance of fate; she hada little philosophy of her own, ingenuous and practical."You know, I don't believe in churches and parsons and all that," shesaid, "but I believe in God, and I don't believe He minds much about whatyou do as long as you keep your end up and help a lame dog over a stilewhen you can. And I think people on the whole are very nice, and I'm sorryfor those who aren't.""And what about afterwards?" asked Philip."Oh, well, I don't know for certain, you know," she smiled, "but I hopefor the best. And anyhow there'll be no rent to pay and no novelettes towrite."She had a feminine gift for delicate flattery. She thought that Philip dida brave thing when he left Paris because he was conscious he could not bea great artist; and he was enchanted when she expressed enthusiasticadmiration for him. He had never been quite certain whether this actionindicated courage or infirmity of purpose. It was delightful to realisethat she considered it heroic. She ventured to tackle him on a subjectwhich his friends instinctively avoided."It's very silly of you to be so sensitive about your club-foot," shesaid. She saw him bush darkly, but went on. "You know, people don't thinkabout it nearly as much as you do. They notice it the first time they seeyou, and then they forget about it."He would not answer."You're not angry with me, are you?""No."She put her arm round his neck."You know, I only speak about it because I love you. I don't want it tomake you unhappy.""I think you can say anything you choose to me," he answered, smiling. "Iwish I could do something to show you how grateful I am to you."She took him in hand in other ways. She would not let him be bearish andlaughed at him when he was out of temper. She made him more urbane."You can make me do anything you like," he said to her once."D'you mind?""No, I want to do what you like."He had the sense to realise his happiness. It seemed to him that she gavehim all that a wife could, and he preserved his freedom; she was the mostcharming friend he had ever had, with a sympathy that he had never foundin a man. The sexual relationship was no more than the strongest link intheir friendship. It completed it, but was not essential. And becausePhilip's appetites were satisfied, he became more equable and easier tolive with. He felt in complete possession of himself. He thought sometimesof the winter, during which he had been obsessed by a hideous passion, andhe was filled with loathing for Mildred and with horror of himself.His examinations were approaching, and Norah was as interested in them ashe. He was flattered and touched by her eagerness. She made him promise tocome at once and tell her the results. He passed the three parts this timewithout mishap, and when he went to tell her she burst into tears."Oh, I'm so glad, I was so anxious.""You silly little thing," he laughed, but he was choking.No one could help being pleased with the way she took it."And what are you going to do now?" she asked."I can take a holiday with a clear conscience. I have no work to do tillthe winter session begins in October.""I suppose you'll go down to your uncle's at Blackstable?""You suppose quite wrong. I'm going to stay in London and play with you.""I'd rather you went away.""Why? Are you tired of me?"She laughed and put her hands on his shoulders."Because you've been working hard, and you look utterly washed out. Youwant some fresh air and a rest. Please go."He did not answer for a moment. He looked at her with loving eyes."You know, I'd never believe it of anyone but you. You're only thinking ofmy good. I wonder what you see in me.""Will you give me a good character with my month's notice?" she laughedgaily."I'll say that you're thoughtful and kind, and you're not exacting; younever worry, you're not troublesome, and you're easy to please.""All that's nonsense," she said, "but I'll tell you one thing: I'm one ofthe few persons I ever met who are able to learn from experience."