Chapter XCI

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Next day he got up early to make the room ready for Mildred. He told thewoman who had looked after him that he would not want her any more.Mildred came about six, and Philip, who was watching from the window, wentdown to let her in and help her to bring up the luggage: it consisted nowof no more than three large parcels wrapped in brown paper, for she hadbeen obliged to sell everything that was not absolutely needful. She worethe same black silk dress she had worn the night before, and, though shehad now no rouge on her cheeks, there was still about her eyes the blackwhich remained after a perfunctory wash in the morning: it made her lookvery ill. She was a pathetic figure as she stepped out of the cab with thebaby in her arms. She seemed a little shy, and they found nothing butcommonplace things to say to one another."So you've got here all right.""I've never lived in this part of London before."Philip showed her the room. It was that in which Cronshaw had died.Philip, though he thought it absurd, had never liked the idea of goingback to it; and since Cronshaw's death he had remained in the little room,sleeping on a fold-up bed, into which he had first moved in order to makehis friend comfortable. The baby was sleeping placidly."You don't recognise her, I expect," said Mildred."I've not seen her since we took her down to Brighton.""Where shall I put her? She's so heavy I can't carry her very long.""I'm afraid I haven't got a cradle," said Philip, with a nervous laugh."Oh, she'll sleep with me. She always does."Mildred put the baby in an arm-chair and looked round the room. Sherecognised most of the things which she had known in his old diggings.Only one thing was new, a head and shoulders of Philip which Lawson hadpainted at the end of the preceding summer; it hung over thechimney-piece; Mildred looked at it critically."In some ways I like it and in some ways I don't. I think you're betterlooking than that.""Things are looking up," laughed Philip. "You've never told me I wasgood-looking before.""I'm not one to worry myself about a man's looks. I don't likegood-looking men. They're too conceited for me."Her eyes travelled round the room in an instinctive search for alooking-glass, but there was none; she put up her hand and patted herlarge fringe."What'll the other people in the house say to my being here?" she askedsuddenly."Oh, there's only a man and his wife living here. He's out all day, and Inever see her except on Saturday to pay my rent. They keep entirely tothemselves. I've not spoken two words to either of them since I came."Mildred went into the bedroom to undo her things and put them away. Philiptried to read, but his spirits were too high: he leaned back in his chair,smoking a cigarette, and with smiling eyes looked at the sleeping child.He felt very happy. He was quite sure that he was not at all in love withMildred. He was surprised that the old feeling had left him so completely;he discerned in himself a faint physical repulsion from her; and hethought that if he touched her it would give him goose-flesh. He could notunderstand himself. Presently, knocking at the door, she came in again."I say, you needn't knock," he said. "Have you made the tour of themansion?""It's the smallest kitchen I've ever seen.""You'll find it large enough to cook our sumptuous repasts," he retortedlightly."I see there's nothing in. I'd better go out and get something.""Yes, but I venture to remind you that we must be devilish economical.""What shall I get for supper?""You'd better get what you think you can cook," laughed Philip.He gave her some money and she went out. She came in half an hour laterand put her purchases on the table. She was out of breath from climbingthe stairs."I say, you are anaemic," said Philip. "I'll have to dose you with Blaud'sPills.""It took me some time to find the shops. I bought some liver. That'stasty, isn't it? And you can't eat much of it, so it's more economicalthan butcher's meat."There was a gas stove in the kitchen, and when she had put the liver on,Mildred came into the sitting-room to lay the cloth."Why are you only laying one place?" asked Philip. "Aren't you going toeat anything?"Mildred flushed."I thought you mightn't like me to have my meals with you.""Why on earth not?""Well, I'm only a servant, aren't I?""Don't be an ass. How can you be so silly?"He smiled, but her humility gave him a curious twist in his heart. Poorthing! He remembered what she had been when first he knew her. Hehesitated for an instant."Don't think I'm conferring any benefit on you," he said. "It's simply abusiness arrangement, I'm giving you board and lodging in return for yourwork. You don't owe me anything. And there's nothing humiliating to you init."She did not answer, but tears rolled heavily down her cheeks. Philip knewfrom his experience at the hospital that women of her class looked uponservice as degrading: he could not help feeling a little impatient withher; but he blamed himself, for it was clear that she was tired and ill.He got up and helped her to lay another place at the table. The baby wasawake now, and Mildred had prepared some Mellin's Food for it. The liverand bacon were ready and they sat down. For economy's sake Philip hadgiven up drinking anything but water, but he had in the house a half abottle of whiskey, and he thought a little would do Mildred good. He didhis best to make the supper pass cheerfully, but Mildred was subdued andexhausted. When they had finished she got up to put the baby to bed."I think you'll do well to turn in early yourself," said Philip. "You lookabsolute done up.""I think I will after I've washed up."Philip lit his pipe and began to read. It was pleasant to hear somebodymoving about in the next room. Sometimes his loneliness had oppressed him.Mildred came in to clear the table, and he heard the clatter of plates asshe washed up. Philip smiled as he thought how characteristic it was ofher that she should do all that in a black silk dress. But he had work todo, and he brought his book up to the table. He was reading Osler'sMedicine, which had recently taken the place in the students' favour ofTaylor's work, for many years the text-book most in use. Presently Mildredcame in, rolling down her sleeves. Philip gave her a casual glance, butdid not move; the occasion was curious, and he felt a little nervous. Hefeared that Mildred might imagine he was going to make a nuisance ofhimself, and he did not quite know how without brutality to reassure her."By the way, I've got a lecture at nine, so I should want breakfast at aquarter past eight. Can you manage that?""Oh, yes. Why, when I was in Parliament Street I used to catch theeight-twelve from Herne Hill every morning.""I hope you'll find your room comfortable. You'll be a different womantomorrow after a long night in bed.""I suppose you work till late?""I generally work till about eleven or half-past.""I'll say good-night then.""Good-night."The table was between them. He did not offer to shake hands with her. Sheshut the door quietly. He heard her moving about in the bed-room, and ina little while he heard the creaking of the bed as she got in.