Chapter XIX

by William Somerset Maugham

　　At first Philip had been too grateful for Rose's friendship to make anydemands on him. He took things as they came and enjoyed life. Butpresently he began to resent Rose's universal amiability; he wanted a moreexclusive attachment, and he claimed as a right what before he hadaccepted as a favour. He watched jealously Rose's companionship withothers; and though he knew it was unreasonable could not help sometimessaying bitter things to him. If Rose spent an hour playing the fool inanother study, Philip would receive him when he returned to his own witha sullen frown. He would sulk for a day, and he suffered more because Roseeither did not notice his ill-humour or deliberately ignored it. Notseldom Philip, knowing all the time how stupid he was, would force aquarrel, and they would not speak to one another for a couple of days. ButPhilip could not bear to be angry with him long, and even when convincedthat he was in the right, would apologise humbly. Then for a week theywould be as great friends as ever. But the best was over, and Philip couldsee that Rose often walked with him merely from old habit or from fear ofhis anger; they had not so much to say to one another as at first, andRose was often bored. Philip felt that his lameness began to irritate him.Towards the end of the term two or three boys caught scarlet fever, andthere was much talk of sending them all home in order to escape anepidemic; but the sufferers were isolated, and since no more were attackedit was supposed that the outbreak was stopped. One of the stricken wasPhilip. He remained in hospital through the Easter holidays, and at thebeginning of the summer term was sent home to the vicarage to get a littlefresh air. The Vicar, notwithstanding medical assurance that the boy wasno longer infectious, received him with suspicion; he thought it veryinconsiderate of the doctor to suggest that his nephew's convalescenceshould be spent by the seaside, and consented to have him in the houseonly because there was nowhere else he could go.Philip went back to school at half-term. He had forgotten the quarrels hehad had with Rose, but remembered only that he was his greatest friend. Heknew that he had been silly. He made up his mind to be more reasonable.During his illness Rose had sent him in a couple of little notes, and hehad ended each with the words: "Hurry up and come back." Philip thoughtRose must be looking forward as much to his return as he was himself toseeing Rose.He found that owing to the death from scarlet fever of one of the boys inthe Sixth there had been some shifting in the studies and Rose was nolonger in his. It was a bitter disappointment. But as soon as he arrivedhe burst into Rose's study. Rose was sitting at his desk, working with aboy called Hunter, and turned round crossly as Philip came in."Who the devil's that?" he cried. And then, seeing Philip: "Oh, it's you."Philip stopped in embarrassment."I thought I'd come in and see how you were.""We were just working."Hunter broke into the conversation."When did you get back?""Five minutes ago."They sat and looked at him as though he was disturbing them. Theyevidently expected him to go quickly. Philip reddened."I'll be off. You might look in when you've done," he said to Rose."All right."Philip closed the door behind him and limped back to his own study. Hefelt frightfully hurt. Rose, far from seeming glad to see him, had lookedalmost put out. They might never have been more than acquaintances. Thoughhe waited in his study, not leaving it for a moment in case just then Roseshould come, his friend never appeared; and next morning when he went into prayers he saw Rose and Hunter singing along arm in arm. What he couldnot see for himself others told him. He had forgotten that three months isa long time in a schoolboy's life, and though he had passed them insolitude Rose had lived in the world. Hunter had stepped into the vacantplace. Philip found that Rose was quietly avoiding him. But he was not theboy to accept a situation without putting it into words; he waited till hewas sure Rose was alone in his study and went in."May I come in?" he asked.Rose looked at him with an embarrassment that made him angry with Philip."Yes, if you want to.""It's very kind of you," said Philip sarcastically."What d'you want?""I say, why have you been so rotten since I came back?""Oh, don't be an ass," said Rose."I don't know what you see in Hunter.""That's my business."Philip looked down. He could not bring himself to say what was in hisheart. He was afraid of humiliating himself. Rose got up."I've got to go to the Gym," he said.When he was at the door Philip forced himself to speak."I say, Rose, don't be a perfect beast.""Oh, go to hell."Rose slammed the door behind him and left Philip alone. Philip shiveredwith rage. He went back to his study and turned the conversation over inhis mind. He hated Rose now, he wanted to hurt him, he thought of bitingthings he might have said to him. He brooded over the end to theirfriendship and fancied that others were talking of it. In hissensitiveness he saw sneers and wonderings in other fellows' manner whenthey were not bothering their heads with him at all. He imagined tohimself what they were saying."After all, it wasn't likely to last long. I wonder he ever stuck Carey atall. Blighter!"To show his indifference he struck up a violent friendship with a boycalled Sharp whom he hated and despised. He was a London boy, with aloutish air, a heavy fellow with the beginnings of a moustache on his lipand bushy eyebrows that joined one another across the bridge of his nose.He had soft hands and manners too suave for his years. He spoke with thesuspicion of a cockney accent. He was one of those boys who are too slackto play games, and he exercised great ingenuity in making excuses to avoidsuch as were compulsory. He was regarded by boys and masters with a vaguedislike, and it was from arrogance that Philip now sought his society.Sharp in a couple of terms was going to Germany for a year. He hatedschool, which he looked upon as an indignity to be endured till he was oldenough to go out into the world. London was all he cared for, and he hadmany stories to tell of his doings there during the holidays. From hisconversation--he spoke in a soft, deep-toned voice--there emerged thevague rumour of the London streets by night. Philip listened to him atonce fascinated and repelled. With his vivid fancy he seemed to see thesurging throng round the pit-door of theatres, and the glitter of cheaprestaurants, bars where men, half drunk, sat on high stools talking withbarmaids; and under the street lamps the mysterious passing of dark crowdsbent upon pleasure. Sharp lent him cheap novels from Holywell Row, whichPhilip read in his cubicle with a sort of wonderful fear.Once Rose tried to effect a reconciliation. He was a good-natured fellow,who did not like having enemies."I say, Carey, why are you being such a silly ass? It doesn't do you anygood cutting me and all that.""I don't know what you mean," answered Philip."Well, I don't see why you shouldn't talk.""You bore me," said Philip."Please yourself."Rose shrugged his shoulders and left him. Philip was very white, as healways became when he was moved, and his heart beat violently. When Rosewent away he felt suddenly sick with misery. He did not know why he hadanswered in that fashion. He would have given anything to be friends withRose. He hated to have quarrelled with him, and now that he saw he hadgiven him pain he was very sorry. But at the moment he had not been masterof himself. It seemed that some devil had seized him, forcing him to saybitter things against his will, even though at the time he wanted to shakehands with Rose and meet him more than halfway. The desire to wound hadbeen too strong for him. He had wanted to revenge himself for the pain andthe humiliation he had endured. It was pride: it was folly too, for heknew that Rose would not care at all, while he would suffer bitterly. Thethought came to him that he would go to Rose, and say:"I say, I'm sorry I was such a beast. I couldn't help it. Let's make itup."But he knew he would never be able to do it. He was afraid that Rose wouldsneer at him. He was angry with himself, and when Sharp came in a littlewhile afterwards he seized upon the first opportunity to quarrel with him.Philip had a fiendish instinct for discovering other people's raw spots,and was able to say things that rankled because they were true. But Sharphad the last word."I heard Rose talking about you to Mellor just now," he said. "Mellorsaid: Why didn't you kick him? It would teach him manners. And Rose said:I didn't like to. Damned cripple."Philip suddenly became scarlet. He could not answer, for there was a lumpin his throat that almost choked him.