Chapter LXXIV

by William Somerset Maugham

　　The following Saturday Mildred returned, and that evening Philip kept herto himself. He took seats for the play, and they drank champagne atdinner. It was her first gaiety in London for so long that she enjoyedeverything ingenuously. She cuddled up to Philip when they drove from thetheatre to the room he had taken for her in Pimlico."I really believe you're quite glad to see me," he said.She did not answer, but gently pressed his hand. Demonstrations ofaffection were so rare with her that Philip was enchanted."I've asked Griffiths to dine with us tomorrow," he told her."Oh, I'm glad you've done that. I wanted to meet him."There was no place of entertainment to take her to on Sunday night, andPhilip was afraid she would be bored if she were alone with him all day.Griffiths was amusing; he would help them to get through the evening; andPhilip was so fond of them both that he wanted them to know and to likeone another. He left Mildred with the words:"Only six days more."They had arranged to dine in the gallery at Romano's on Sunday, becausethe dinner was excellent and looked as though it cost a good deal morethan it did. Philip and Mildred arrived first and had to wait some timefor Griffiths."He's an unpunctual devil," said Philip. "He's probably making love to oneof his numerous flames."But presently he appeared. He was a handsome creature, tall and thin; hishead was placed well on the body, it gave him a conquering air which wasattractive; and his curly hair, his bold, friendly blue eyes, his redmouth, were charming. Philip saw Mildred look at him with appreciation,and he felt a curious satisfaction. Griffiths greeted them with a smile."I've heard a great deal about you," he said to Mildred, as he took herhand."Not so much as I've heard about you," she answered."Nor so bad," said. Philip."Has he been blackening my character?"Griffiths laughed, and Philip saw that Mildred noticed how white andregular his teeth were and how pleasant his smile."You ought to feel like old friends," said Philip. "I've talked so muchabout you to one another."Griffiths was in the best possible humour, for, having at length passedhis final examination, he was qualified, and he had just been appointedhouse-surgeon at a hospital in the North of London. He was taking up hisduties at the beginning of May and meanwhile was going home for a holiday;this was his last week in town, and he was determined to get as muchenjoyment into it as he could. He began to talk the gay nonsense whichPhilip admired because he could not copy it. There was nothing much inwhat he said, but his vivacity gave it point. There flowed from him aforce of life which affected everyone who knew him; it was almost assensible as bodily warmth. Mildred was more lively than Philip had everknown her, and he was delighted to see that his little party was asuccess. She was amusing herself enormously. She laughed louder andlouder. She quite forgot the genteel reserve which had become secondnature to her.Presently Griffiths said:"I say, it's dreadfully difficult for me to call you Mrs. Miller. Philipnever calls you anything but Mildred.""I daresay she won't scratch your eyes out if you call her that too,"laughed Philip."Then she must call me Harry."Philip sat silent while they chattered away and thought how good it was tosee people happy. Now and then Griffiths teased him a little, kindly,because he was always so serious."I believe he's quite fond of you, Philip," smiled Mildred."He isn't a bad old thing," answered Griffiths, and taking Philip's handhe shook it gaily.It seemed an added charm in Griffiths that he liked Philip. They were allsober people, and the wine they had drunk went to their heads. Griffithsbecame more talkative and so boisterous that Philip, amused, had to beghim to be quiet. He had a gift for story-telling, and his adventures lostnothing of their romance and their laughter in his narration. He played inall of them a gallant, humorous part. Mildred, her eyes shining withexcitement, urged him on. He poured out anecdote after anecdote. When thelights began to be turned out she was astonished."My word, the evening has gone quickly. I thought it wasn't more than halfpast nine."They got up to go and when she said good-bye, she added:"I'm coming to have tea at Philip's room tomorrow. You might look in ifyou can.""All right," he smiled.On the way back to Pimlico Mildred talked of nothing but Griffiths. Shewas taken with his good looks, his well-cut clothes, his voice, hisgaiety."I am glad you like him," said Philip. "D'you remember you were rathersniffy about meeting him?""I think it's so nice of him to be so fond of you, Philip. He is a nicefriend for you to have."She put up her face to Philip for him to kiss her. It was a thing she didrarely."I have enjoyed myself this evening, Philip. Thank you so much.""Don't be so absurd," he laughed, touched by her appreciation so that hefelt the moisture come to his eyes.She opened her door and just before she went in, turned again to Philip."Tell Harry I'm madly in love with him," she said."All right," he laughed. "Good-night."Next day, when they were having tea, Griffiths came in. He sank lazilyinto an arm-chair. There was something strangely sensual in the slowmovements of his large limbs. Philip remained silent, while the otherschattered away, but he was enjoying himself. He admired them both so muchthat it seemed natural enough for them to admire one another. He did notcare if Griffiths absorbed Mildred's attention, he would have her tohimself during the evening: he had something of the attitude of a lovinghusband, confident in his wife's affection, who looks on with amusementwhile she flirts harmlessly with a stranger. But at half past seven helooked at his watch and said:"It's about time we went out to dinner, Mildred."There was a moment's pause, and Griffiths seemed to be considering."Well, I'll be getting along," he said at last. "I didn't know it was solate.""Are you doing anything tonight?" asked Mildred."No."There was another silence. Philip felt slightly irritated."I'll just go and have a wash," he said, and to Mildred he added: "Wouldyou like to wash your hands?"She did not answer him."Why don't you come and dine with us?" she said to Griffiths.He looked at Philip and saw him staring at him sombrely."I dined with you last night," he laughed. "I should be in the way.""Oh, that doesn't matter," insisted Mildred. "Make him come, Philip. Hewon't be in the way, will he?""Let him come by all means if he'd like to.""All right, then," said Griffiths promptly. "I'll just go upstairs andtidy myself."The moment he left the room Philip turned to Mildred angrily."Why on earth did you ask him to dine with us?""I couldn't help myself. It would have looked so funny to say nothing whenhe said he wasn't doing anything.""Oh, what rot! And why the hell did you ask him if he was doing anything?"Mildred's pale lips tightened a little."I want a little amusement sometimes. I get tired always being alone withyou."They heard Griffiths coming heavily down the stairs, and Philip went intohis bed-room to wash. They dined in the neighbourhood in an Italianrestaurant. Philip was cross and silent, but he quickly realised that hewas showing to disadvantage in comparison with Griffiths, and he forcedhimself to hide his annoyance. He drank a good deal of wine to destroy thepain that was gnawing at his heart, and he set himself to talk. Mildred,as though remorseful for what she had said, did all she could to makeherself pleasant to him. She was kindly and affectionate. Presently Philipbegan to think he had been a fool to surrender to a feeling of jealousy.After dinner when they got into a hansom to drive to a music-hall Mildred,sitting between the two men, of her own accord gave him her hand. Hisanger vanished. Suddenly, he knew not how, he grew conscious thatGriffiths was holding her other hand. The pain seized him again violently,it was a real physical pain, and he asked himself, panic-stricken, what hemight have asked himself before, whether Mildred and Griffiths were inlove with one another. He could not see anything of the performance onaccount of the mist of suspicion, anger, dismay, and wretchedness whichseemed to be before his eyes; but he forced himself to conceal the factthat anything was the matter; he went on talking and laughing. Then astrange desire to torture himself seized him, and he got up, saying hewanted to go and drink something. Mildred and Griffiths had never beenalone together for a moment. He wanted to leave them by themselves."I'll come too," said Griffiths. "I've got rather a thirst on.""Oh, nonsense, you stay and talk to Mildred."Philip did not know why he said that. He was throwing them together now tomake the pain he suffered more intolerable. He did not go to the bar, butup into the balcony, from where he could watch them and not be seen. Theyhad ceased to look at the stage and were smiling into one another's eyes.Griffiths was talking with his usual happy fluency and Mildred seemed tohang on his lips. Philip's head began to ache frightfully. He stood theremotionless. He knew he would be in the way if he went back. They wereenjoying themselves without him, and he was suffering, suffering. Timepassed, and now he had an extraordinary shyness about rejoining them. Heknew they had not thought of him at all, and he reflected bitterly that hehad paid for the dinner and their seats in the music-hall. What a foolthey were making of him! He was hot with shame. He could see how happythey were without him. His instinct was to leave them to themselves and gohome, but he had not his hat and coat, and it would necessitate endlessexplanations. He went back. He felt a shadow of annoyance in Mildred'seyes when she saw him, and his heart sank."You've been a devil of a time," said Griffiths, with a smile of welcome."I met some men I knew. I've been talking to them, and I couldn't getaway. I thought you'd be all right together.""I've been enjoying myself thoroughly," said Griffiths. "I don't knowabout Mildred."She gave a little laugh of happy complacency. There was a vulgar sound inthe ring of it that horrified Philip. He suggested that they should go."Come on," said Griffiths, "we'll both drive you home."Philip suspected that she had suggested that arrangement so that she mightnot be left alone with him. In the cab he did not take her hand nor didshe offer it, and he knew all the time that she was holding Griffiths'.His chief thought was that it was all so horribly vulgar. As they drovealong he asked himself what plans they had made to meet without hisknowledge, he cursed himself for having left them alone, he had actuallygone out of his way to enable them to arrange things."Let's keep the cab," said Philip, when they reached the house in whichMildred was lodging. "I'm too tired to walk home."On the way back Griffiths talked gaily and seemed indifferent to the factthat Philip answered in monosyllables. Philip felt he must notice thatsomething was the matter. Philip's silence at last grew too significant tostruggle against, and Griffiths, suddenly nervous, ceased talking. Philipwanted to say something, but he was so shy he could hardly bring himselfto, and yet the time was passing and the opportunity would be lost. It wasbest to get at the truth at once. He forced himself to speak."Are you in love with Mildred?" he asked suddenly."I?" Griffiths laughed. "Is that what you've been so funny about thisevening? Of course not, my dear old man."He tried to slip his hand through Philip's arm, but Philip drew himselfaway. He knew Griffiths was lying. He could not bring himself to forceGriffiths to tell him that he had not been holding the girl's hand. Hesuddenly felt very weak and broken."It doesn't matter to you, Harry," he said. "You've got so manywomen--don't take her away from me. It means my whole life. I've been soawfully wretched."His voice broke, and he could not prevent the sob that was torn from him.He was horribly ashamed of himself."My dear old boy, you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. I'm far toofond of you for that. I was only playing the fool. If I'd known you weregoing to take it like that I'd have been more careful.""Is that true?" asked Philip."I don't care a twopenny damn for her. I give you my word of honour."Philip gave a sigh of relief. The cab stopped at their door.