Chapter LXX

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip expected to find a letter from Norah when he got back to his rooms,but there was nothing; nor did he receive one the following morning. Thesilence irritated and at the same time alarmed him. They had seen oneanother every day he had been in London since the previous June; and itmust seem odd to her that he should let two days go by without visitingher or offering a reason for his absence; he wondered whether by anunlucky chance she had seen him with Mildred. He could not bear to thinkthat she was hurt or unhappy, and he made up his mind to call on her thatafternoon. He was almost inclined to reproach her because he had allowedhimself to get on such intimate terms with her. The thought of continuingthem filled him with disgust.He found two rooms for Mildred on the second floor of a house in theVauxhall Bridge Road. They were noisy, but he knew that she liked therattle of traffic under her windows."I don't like a dead and alive street where you don't see a soul pass allday," she said. "Give me a bit of life."Then he forced himself to go to Vincent Square. He was sick withapprehension when he rang the bell. He had an uneasy sense that he wastreating Norah badly; he dreaded reproaches; he knew she had a quicktemper, and he hated scenes: perhaps the best way would be to tell herfrankly that Mildred had come back to him and his love for her was asviolent as it had ever been; he was very sorry, but he had nothing tooffer Norah any more. Then he thought of her anguish, for he knew sheloved him; it had flattered him before, and he was immensely grateful; butnow it was horrible. She had not deserved that he should inflict pain uponher. He asked himself how she would greet him now, and as he walked up thestairs all possible forms of her behaviour flashed across his mind. Heknocked at the door. He felt that he was pale, and wondered how to concealhis nervousness.She was writing away industriously, but she sprang to her feet as heentered."I recognised your step," she cried. "Where have you been hiding yourself,you naughty boy?"She came towards him joyfully and put her arms round his neck. She wasdelighted to see him. He kissed her, and then, to give himselfcountenance, said he was dying for tea. She bustled the fire to make thekettle boil."I've been awfully busy," he said lamely.She began to chatter in her bright way, telling him of a new commissionshe had to provide a novelette for a firm which had not hitherto employedher. She was to get fifteen guineas for it."It's money from the clouds. I'll tell you what we'll do, we'll standourselves a little jaunt. Let's go and spend a day at Oxford, shall we?I'd love to see the colleges."He looked at her to see whether there was any shadow of reproach in hereyes; but they were as frank and merry as ever: she was overjoyed to seehim. His heart sank. He could not tell her the brutal truth. She made sometoast for him, and cut it into little pieces, and gave it him as though hewere a child."Is the brute fed?" she asked.He nodded, smiling; and she lit a cigarette for him. Then, as she loved todo, she came and sat on his knees. She was very light. She leaned back inhis arms with a sigh of delicious happiness."Say something nice to me," she murmured."What shall I say?""You might by an effort of imagination say that you rather liked me.""You know I do that."He had not the heart to tell her then. He would give her peace at allevents for that day, and perhaps he might write to her. That would beeasier. He could not bear to think of her crying. She made him kiss her,and as he kissed her he thought of Mildred and Mildred's pale, thin lips.The recollection of Mildred remained with him all the time, like anincorporated form, but more substantial than a shadow; and the sightcontinually distracted his attention."You're very quiet today," Norah said.Her loquacity was a standing joke between them, and he answered:"You never let me get a word in, and I've got out of the habit oftalking.""But you're not listening, and that's bad manners."He reddened a little, wondering whether she had some inkling of hissecret; he turned away his eyes uneasily. The weight of her irked him thisafternoon, and he did not want her to touch him."My foot's gone to sleep," he said."I'm so sorry," she cried, jumping up. "I shall have to bant if I can'tbreak myself of this habit of sitting on gentlemen's knees."He went through an elaborate form of stamping his foot and walking about.Then he stood in front of the fire so that she should not resume herposition. While she talked he thought that she was worth ten of Mildred;she amused him much more and was jollier to talk to; she was cleverer, andshe had a much nicer nature. She was a good, brave, honest little woman;and Mildred, he thought bitterly, deserved none of these epithets. If hehad any sense he would stick to Norah, she would make him much happierthan he would ever be with Mildred: after all she loved him, and Mildredwas only grateful for his help. But when all was said the important thingwas to love rather than to be loved; and he yearned for Mildred with hiswhole soul. He would sooner have ten minutes with her than a wholeafternoon with Norah, he prized one kiss of her cold lips more than allNorah could give him."I can't help myself," he thought. "I've just got her in my bones."He did not care if she was heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid andgrasping, he loved her. He would rather have misery with the one thanhappiness with the other.When he got up to go Norah said casually:"Well, I shall see you tomorrow, shan't I?""Yes," he answered.He knew that he would not be able to come, since he was going to helpMildred with her moving, but he had not the courage to say so. He made uphis mind that he would send a wire. Mildred saw the rooms in the morning,was satisfied with them, and after luncheon Philip went up with her toHighbury. She had a trunk for her clothes and another for the various oddsand ends, cushions, lampshades, photograph frames, with which she hadtried to give the apartments a home-like air; she had two or three largecardboard boxes besides, but in all there was no more than could be put onthe roof of a four-wheeler. As they drove through Victoria Street Philipsat well back in the cab in case Norah should happen to be passing. He hadnot had an opportunity to telegraph and could not do so from the postoffice in the Vauxhall Bridge Road, since she would wonder what he wasdoing in that neighbourhood; and if he was there he could have no excusefor not going into the neighbouring square where she lived. He made up hismind that he had better go in and see her for half an hour; but thenecessity irritated him: he was angry with Norah, because she forced himto vulgar and degrading shifts. But he was happy to be with Mildred. Itamused him to help her with the unpacking; and he experienced a charmingsense of possession in installing her in these lodgings which he had foundand was paying for. He would not let her exert herself. It was a pleasureto do things for her, and she had no desire to do what somebody elseseemed desirous to do for her. He unpacked her clothes and put them away.She was not proposing to go out again, so he got her slippers and took offher boots. It delighted him to perform menial offices."You do spoil me," she said, running her fingers affectionately throughhis hair, while he was on his knees unbuttoning her boots.He took her hands and kissed them."It is nipping to have you here."He arranged the cushions and the photograph frames. She had several jarsof green earthenware."I'll get you some flowers for them," he said.He looked round at his work proudly."As I'm not going out any more I think I'll get into a tea-gown," shesaid. "Undo me behind, will you?"She turned round as unconcernedly as though he were a woman. His sex meantnothing to her. But his heart was filled with gratitude for the intimacyher request showed. He undid the hooks and eyes with clumsy fingers."That first day I came into the shop I never thought I'd be doing this foryou now," he said, with a laugh which he forced."Somebody must do it," she answered.She went into the bed-room and slipped into a pale blue tea-gown decoratedwith a great deal of cheap lace. Then Philip settled her on a sofa andmade tea for her."I'm afraid I can't stay and have it with you," he said regretfully. "I'vegot a beastly appointment. But I shall be back in half an hour."He wondered what he should say if she asked him what the appointment was,but she showed no curiosity. He had ordered dinner for the two of themwhen he took the rooms, and proposed to spend the evening with herquietly. He was in such a hurry to get back that he took a tram along theVauxhall Bridge Road. He thought he had better break the fact to Norah atonce that he could not stay more than a few minutes."I say, I've got only just time to say how d'you do," he said, as soon ashe got into her rooms. "I'm frightfully busy."Her face fell."Why, what's the matter?"It exasperated him that she should force him to tell lies, and he knewthat he reddened when he answered that there was a demonstration at thehospital which he was bound to go to. He fancied that she looked as thoughshe did not believe him, and this irritated him all the more."Oh, well, it doesn't matter," she said. "I shall have you all tomorrow."He looked at her blankly. It was Sunday, and he had been looking forwardto spending the day with Mildred. He told himself that he must do that incommon decency; he could not leave her by herself in a strange house."I'm awfully sorry, I'm engaged tomorrow."He knew this was the beginning of a scene which he would have givenanything to avoid. The colour on Norah's cheeks grew brighter."But I've asked the Gordons to lunch"--they were an actor and his wife whowere touring the provinces and in London for Sunday--"I told you about ita week ago.""I'm awfully sorry, I forgot." He hesitated. "I'm afraid I can't possiblycome. Isn't there somebody else you can get?""What are you doing tomorrow then?""I wish you wouldn't cross-examine me.""Don't you want to tell me?""I don't in the least mind telling you, but it's rather annoying to beforced to account for all one's movements."Norah suddenly changed. With an effort of self-control she got the betterof her temper, and going up to him took his hands."Don't disappoint me tomorrow, Philip, I've been looking forward so muchto spending the day with you. The Gordons want to see you, and we'll havesuch a jolly time.""I'd love to if I could.""I'm not very exacting, am I? I don't often ask you to do anything that'sa bother. Won't you get out of your horrid engagement--just this once?""I'm awfully sorry, I don't see how I can," he replied sullenly."Tell me what it is," she said coaxingly.He had had time to invent something. "Griffiths' two sisters are up forthe week-end and we're taking them out.""Is that all?" she said joyfully. "Griffiths can so easily get anotherman."He wished he had thought of something more urgent than that. It was aclumsy lie."No, I'm awfully sorry, I can't--I've promised and I mean to keep mypromise.""But you promised me too. Surely I come first.""I wish you wouldn't persist," he said.She flared up."You won't come because you don't want to. I don't know what you've beendoing the last few days, you've been quite different."He looked at his watch."I'm afraid I'll have to be going," he said."You won't come tomorrow?""No.""In that case you needn't trouble to come again," she cried, losing hertemper for good."That's just as you like," he answered."Don't let me detain you any longer," she added ironically.He shrugged his shoulders and walked out. He was relieved that it had goneno worse. There had been no tears. As he walked along he congratulatedhimself on getting out of the affair so easily. He went into VictoriaStreet and bought a few flowers to take in to Mildred.The little dinner was a great success. Philip had sent in a small pot ofcaviare, which he knew she was very fond of, and the landlady brought themup some cutlets with vegetables and a sweet. Philip had ordered Burgundy,which was her favourite wine. With the curtains drawn, a bright fire, andone of Mildred's shades on the lamp, the room was cosy."It's really just like home," smiled Philip."I might be worse off, mightn't I?" she answered.When they finished, Philip drew two arm-chairs in front of the fire, andthey sat down. He smoked his pipe comfortably. He felt happy and generous."What would you like to do tomorrow?" he asked."Oh, I'm going to Tulse Hill. You remember the manageress at the shop,well, she's married now, and she's asked me to go and spend the day withher. Of course she thinks I'm married too."Philip's heart sank."But I refused an invitation so that I might spend Sunday with you."He thought that if she loved him she would say that in that case she wouldstay with him. He knew very well that Norah would not have hesitated."Well, you were a silly to do that. I've promised to go for three weeksand more.""But how can you go alone?""Oh, I shall say that Emil's away on business. Her husband's in the glovetrade, and he's a very superior fellow."Philip was silent, and bitter feelings passed through his heart. She gavehim a sidelong glance."You don't grudge me a little pleasure, Philip? You see, it's the lasttime I shall be able to go anywhere for I don't know how long, and I hadpromised."He took her hand and smiled."No, darling, I want you to have the best time you can. I only want you tobe happy."There was a little book bound in blue paper lying open, face downwards, onthe sofa, and Philip idly took it up. It was a twopenny novelette, and theauthor was Courtenay Paget. That was the name under which Norah wrote."I do like his books," said Mildred. "I read them all. They're sorefined."He remembered what Norah had said of herself."I have an immense popularity among kitchen-maids. They think me sogenteel."