Chapter LXXI

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip, in return for Griffiths' confidences, had told him the details ofhis own complicated amours, and on Sunday morning, after breakfast whenthey sat by the fire in their dressing-gowns and smoked, he recounted thescene of the previous day. Griffiths congratulated him because he had gotout of his difficulties so easily."It's the simplest thing in the world to have an affair with a woman, heremarked sententiously, "but it's a devil of a nuisance to get out of it."Philip felt a little inclined to pat himself on the back for his skill inmanaging the business. At all events he was immensely relieved. He thoughtof Mildred enjoying herself in Tulse Hill, and he found in himself a realsatisfaction because she was happy. It was an act of self-sacrifice on hispart that he did not grudge her pleasure even though paid for by his owndisappointment, and it filled his heart with a comfortable glow.But on Monday morning he found on his table a letter from Norah. Shewrote:Dearest,I'm sorry I was cross on Saturday. Forgive me and come to tea in theafternoon as usual. I love you.Your Norah.His heart sank, and he did not know what to do. He took the note toGriffiths and showed it to him."You'd better leave it unanswered," said he."Oh, I can't," cried Philip. "I should be miserable if I thought of herwaiting and waiting. You don't know what it is to be sick for thepostman's knock. I do, and I can't expose anybody else to that torture.""My dear fellow, one can't break that sort of affair off without somebodysuffering. You must just set your teeth to that. One thing is, it doesn'tlast very long."Philip felt that Norah had not deserved that he should make her suffer;and what did Griffiths know about the degrees of anguish she was capableof? He remembered his own pain when Mildred had told him she was going tobe married. He did not want anyone to experience what he had experiencedthen."If you're so anxious not to give her pain, go back to her," saidGriffiths."I can't do that."He got up and walked up and down the room nervously. He was angry withNorah because she had not let the matter rest. She must have seen that hehad no more love to give her. They said women were so quick at seeingthose things."You might help me," he said to Griffiths."My dear fellow, don't make such a fuss about it. People do get over thesethings, you know. She probably isn't so wrapped up in you as you think,either. One's always rather apt to exaggerate the passion one's inspiredother people with."He paused and looked at Philip with amusement."Look here, there's only one thing you can do. Write to her, and tell herthe thing's over. Put it so that there can be no mistake about it. It'llhurt her, but it'll hurt her less if you do the thing brutally than if youtry half-hearted ways."Philip sat down and wrote the following letter:My dear Norah,I am sorry to make you unhappy, but I think we had better let thingsremain where we left them on Saturday. I don't think there's any use inletting these things drag on when they've ceased to be amusing. You toldme to go and I went. I do not propose to come back. Good-bye.Philip Carey.He showed the letter to Griffiths and asked him what he thought of it.Griffiths read it and looked at Philip with twinkling eyes. He did not saywhat he felt."I think that'll do the trick," he said.Philip went out and posted it. He passed an uncomfortable morning, for heimagined with great detail what Norah would feel when she received hisletter. He tortured himself with the thought of her tears. But at the sametime he was relieved. Imagined grief was more easy to bear than griefseen, and he was free now to love Mildred with all his soul. His heartleaped at the thought of going to see her that afternoon, when his day'swork at the hospital was over.When as usual he went back to his rooms to tidy himself, he had no soonerput the latch-key in his door than he heard a voice behind him."May I come in? I've been waiting for you for half an hour."It was Norah. He felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. She spokegaily. There was no trace of resentment in her voice and nothing toindicate that there was a rupture between them. He felt himself cornered.He was sick with fear, but he did his best to smile."Yes, do," he said.He opened the door, and she preceded him into his sitting-room. He wasnervous and, to give himself countenance, offered her a cigarette and litone for himself. She looked at him brightly."Why did you write me such a horrid letter, you naughty boy? If I'd takenit seriously it would have made me perfectly wretched.""It was meant seriously," he answered gravely."Don't be so silly. I lost my temper the other day, and I wrote andapologised. You weren't satisfied, so I've come here to apologise again.After all, you're your own master and I have no claims upon you. I don'twant you to do anything you don't want to."She got up from the chair in which she was sitting and went towards himimpulsively, with outstretched hands."Let's make friends again, Philip. I'm so sorry if I offended you."He could not prevent her from taking his hands, but he could not look ather."I'm afraid it's too late," he said.She let herself down on the floor by his side and clasped his knees."Philip, don't be silly. I'm quick-tempered too and I can understand thatI hurt you, but it's so stupid to sulk over it. What's the good of makingus both unhappy? It's been so jolly, our friendship." She passed herfingers slowly over his hand. "I love you, Philip."He got up, disengaging himself from her, and went to the other side of theroom."I'm awfully sorry, I can't do anything. The whole thing's over.""D'you mean to say you don't love me any more?""I'm afraid so.""You were just looking for an opportunity to throw me over and you tookthat one?"He did not answer. She looked at him steadily for a time which seemedintolerable. She was sitting on the floor where he had left her, leaningagainst the arm-chair. She began to cry quite silently, without trying tohide her face, and the large tears rolled down her cheeks one after theother. She did not sob. It was horribly painful to see her. Philip turnedaway."I'm awfully sorry to hurt you. It's not my fault if I don't love you."She did not answer. She merely sat there, as though she were overwhelmed,and the tears flowed down her cheeks. It would have been easier to bear ifshe had reproached him. He had thought her temper would get the better ofher, and he was prepared for that. At the back of his mind was a feelingthat a real quarrel, in which each said to the other cruel things, wouldin some way be a justification of his behaviour. The time passed. At lasthe grew frightened by her silent crying; he went into his bed-room and gota glass of water; he leaned over her."Won't you drink a little? It'll relieve you."She put her lips listlessly to the glass and drank two or three mouthfuls.Then in an exhausted whisper she asked him for a handkerchief. She driedher eyes."Of course I knew you never loved me as much as I loved you," she moaned."I'm afraid that's always the case," he said. "There's always one wholoves and one who lets himself be loved."He thought of Mildred, and a bitter pain traversed his heart. Norah didnot answer for a long time."I'd been so miserably unhappy, and my life was so hateful," she said atlast.She did not speak to him, but to herself. He had never heard her beforecomplain of the life she had led with her husband or of her poverty. Hehad always admired the bold front she displayed to the world."And then you came along and you were so good to me. And I admired youbecause you were clever and it was so heavenly to have someone I could putmy trust in. I loved you. I never thought it could come to an end. Andwithout any fault of mine at all."Her tears began to flow again, but now she was more mistress of herself,and she hid her face in Philip's handkerchief. She tried hard to controlherself."Give me some more water," she said.She wiped her eyes."I'm sorry to make such a fool of myself. I was so unprepared.""I'm awfully sorry, Norah. I want you to know that I'm very grateful forall you've done for me."He wondered what it was she saw in him."Oh, it's always the same," she sighed, "if you want men to behave well toyou, you must be beastly to them; if you treat them decently they make yousuffer for it."She got up from the floor and said she must go. She gave Philip a long,steady look. Then she sighed."It's so inexplicable. What does it all mean?"Philip took a sudden determination."I think I'd better tell you, I don't want you to think too badly of me,I want you to see that I can't help myself. Mildred's come back."The colour came to her face."Why didn't you tell me at once? I deserved that surely.""I was afraid to."She looked at herself in the glass and set her hat straight."Will you call me a cab," she said. "I don't feel I can walk."He went to the door and stopped a passing hansom; but when she followedhim into the street he was startled to see how white she was. There was aheaviness in her movements as though she had suddenly grown older. Shelooked so ill that he had not the heart to let her go alone."I'll drive back with you if you don't mind."She did not answer, and he got into the cab. They drove along in silenceover the bridge, through shabby streets in which children, with shrillcries, played in the road. When they arrived at her door she did notimmediately get out. It seemed as though she could not summon enoughstrength to her legs to move."I hope you'll forgive me, Norah," he said.She turned her eyes towards him, and he saw that they were bright againwith tears, but she forced a smile to her lips."Poor fellow, you're quite worried about me. You mustn't bother. I don'tblame you. I shall get over it all right."Lightly and quickly she stroked his face to show him that she bore noill-feeling, the gesture was scarcely more than suggested; then she jumpedout of the cab and let herself into her house.Philip paid the hansom and walked to Mildred's lodgings. There was acurious heaviness in his heart. He was inclined to reproach himself. Butwhy? He did not know what else he could have done. Passing a fruiterer's,he remembered that Mildred was fond of grapes. He was so grateful that hecould show his love for her by recollecting every whim she had.