Chapter 109

Theautumnpassedintowinter.PhiliphadlefthisaddresswithMrs.Foster,hisuncle’shousekeeper,sothatshemightcommunicatewithhim,butstillwentonceaweektothehospitalonthechanceoftherebeingaletter.Oneeveninghesawhisnameonanenvelopeinahandwritinghehadhopednevertoseeagain.Itgavehimaqueerfeeling.Foralittlewhilehecouldnotbringhimselftotakeit.Itbroughtbackahostofhatefulmemories.Butatlength,impatientwithhimself,herippedopentheenvelope.

7WilliamStreet,FitzroySquare.

DearPhil,CanIseeyouforaminuteortwoassoonaspossible.Iaminawfultroubleanddon’tknowwhattodo.It’snotmoney.

Yourstruly,Mildred.

Hetoretheletterintolittlebitsandgoingoutintothestreetscatteredtheminthedarkness.

“I’llseeherdamned,”hemuttered.

Afeelingofdisgustsurgedupinhimatthethoughtofseeingheragain.Hedidnotcareifshewasindistress,itservedherrightwhateveritwas,hethoughtofherwithhatred,andthelovehehadhadforherarousedhisloathing.Hisrecollectionsfilledhimwithnausea,andashewalkedacrosstheThameshedrewhimselfasideinaninstinctivewithdrawalfromhisthoughtofher.Hewenttobed,buthecouldnotsleep;hewonderedwhatwasthematterwithher,andhecouldnotgetoutofhisheadthefearthatshewasillandhungry;shewouldnothavewrittentohimunlesssheweredesperate.Hewasangrywithhimselfforhisweakness,butheknewthathewouldhavenopeaceunlesshesawher.Nextmorninghewrotealetter-cardandposteditonhiswaytotheshop.Hemadeitasstiffashecouldandsaidmerelythathewassorryshewasindifficultiesandwouldcometotheaddressshehadgivenatseveno’clockthatevening.

Itwasthatofashabbylodging-houseinasordidstreet;andwhen,sickatthethoughtofseeingher,heaskedwhethershewasin,awildhopeseizedhimthatshehadleft.Itlookedthesortofplacepeoplemovedinandoutoffrequently.Hehadnotthoughtoflookingatthepostmarkonherletteranddidnotknowhowmanydaysithadlainintherack.Thewomanwhoansweredthebelldidnotreplytohisinquiry,butsilentlyprecededhimalongthepassageandknockedonadoorattheback.

“Mrs.Miller,agentlemantoseeyou,”shecalled.

Thedoorwasslightlyopened,andMildredlookedoutsuspiciously.

“Oh,it’syou,”shesaid.“Comein.”

Hewalkedinandsheclosedthedoor.Itwasaverysmallbed-room,untidyaswaseveryplaceshelivedin;therewasapairofshoesonthefloor,lyingapartfromoneanotheranduncleaned;ahatwasonthechestofdrawers,withfalsecurlsbesideit;andtherewasablouseonthetable.Philiplookedforsomewheretoputhishat.Thehooksbehindthedoor

wereladenwithskirts,andhenoticedthattheyweremuddyatthehem.

“Sitdown,won’tyou?”shesaid.Thenshegavealittleawkwardlaugh.“Isupposeyouweresurprisedtohearfrommeagain.”

“You’reawfullyhoarse,”heanswered.“Haveyougotasorethroat?”

“Yes,Ihavehadforsometime.”

Hedidnotsayanything.Hewaitedforhertoexplainwhyshewantedtoseehim.Thelookoftheroomtoldhimclearlyenoughthatshehadgonebacktothelifefromwhichhehadtakenher.Hewonderedwhathadhappenedtothebaby;therewasaphotographofitonthechimney-piece,butnosignintheroomthatachildwaseverthere.Mildredwasholdingherhandkerchief.Shemadeitintoalittleball,andpasseditfromhandtohand.Hesawthatshewasverynervous.Shewasstaringatthefire,andhecouldlookatherwithoutmeetinghereyes.Shewasmuchthinnerthanwhenshehadlefthim;andtheskin,yellowanddryish,wasdrawnmoretightlyoverhercheekbones.Shehaddyedherhairanditwasnowflaxen:italteredheragooddeal,andmadeherlookmorevulgar.

“Iwasrelievedtogetyourletter,Icantellyou,”shesaidatlast.“Ithoughtp’rapsyouweren’tatthe‘ospitalanymore.”

Philipdidnotspeak.

“Isupposeyou’requalifiedbynow,aren’tyou?”

“No.”

“How’sthat?”

“I’mnolongeratthehospital.Ihadtogiveitupeighteenmonthsago.”

“Youarechangeable.Youdon’tseemasifyoucouldsticktoanything.”

Philipwassilentforanothermoment,andwhenhewentonitwaswithcoldness.

“IlostthelittlemoneyIhadinanunluckyspeculationandIcouldn’taffordtogoonwiththe

medical.IhadtoearnmylivingasbestIcould.”

“Whatareyoudoingthen?”

“I’minashop.”

“Oh!”

Shegavehimaquickglanceandturnedhereyesawayatonce.Hethoughtthatshereddened.Shedabbedherpalmsnervouslywiththehandkerchief.

“You’venotforgottenallyourdoctoring,haveyou?”Shejerkedthewordsoutquiteoddly.

“Notentirely.”

“Becausethat’swhyIwantedtoseeyou.”Hervoicesanktoahoarsewhisper.“Idon’tknowwhat’sthematterwithme.”

“Whydon’tyougotoahospital?”

“Idon’tliketodothat,andhaveallthestoodentsstaringatme,andI’mafraidthey’dwanttokeepme.”

“Whatareyoucomplainingof?”askedPhilipcoldly,withthestereotypedphraseusedintheout-patients’room.

“Well,I’vecomeoutinarash,andIcan’tgetridofit.”

Philipfeltatwingeofhorrorinhisheart.Sweatbrokeoutonhisforehead.

“Letmelookatyourthroat?”

Hetookherovertothewindowandmadesuchexaminationashecould.Suddenlyhecaughtsightofhereyes.Therewasdeadlyfearinthem.Itwashorribletosee.Shewasterrified.Shewantedhimtoreassureher;shelookedathimpleadingly,notdaringtoaskforwordsofcomfortbutwithallhernervesastrungtoreceivethem:hehadnonetoofferher.

“I’mafraidyou’reveryillindeed,”hesaid.

“Whatd’youthinkitis?”

Whenhetoldhershegrewdeathlypale,andherlipseventurned,yellow.shebegantocry,hopelessly,quietlyatfirstandthenwithchokingsobs.

“I’mawfullysorry,”hesaidatlast.“ButIhadtotellyou.”

“Imayjustaswellkillmyselfandhavedonewithit.”

Hetooknonoticeofthethreat.

“Haveyougotanymoney?”heasked.

“Sixorsevenpounds.”

“Youmustgiveupthislife,youknow.Don’tyouthinkyoucouldfindsomeworktodo?I’mafraidIcan’thelpyoumuch.Ionlygettwelvebobaweek.”

“WhatisthereIcandonow?”shecriedimpatiently.

“Damnitall,youMUSTtrytogetsomething.”

Hespoketoherverygravely,tellingherofherowndangerandthedangertowhichsheexposedothers,andshelistenedsullenly.Hetriedtoconsoleher.Atlasthebroughthertoasulkyacquiescenceinwhichshepromisedtodoallheadvised.Hewroteaprescription,whichhesaidhewouldleaveatthenearestchemist’s,andheimpresseduponherthenecessityoftakinghermedicinewiththeutmostregularity.Gettinguptogo,heheldouthishand.

“Don’tbedownhearted,you’llsoongetoveryourthroat.”

Butashewentherfacebecamesuddenlydistorted,andshecaughtholdofhiscoat.

“Oh,don’tleaveme,”shecriedhoarsely.“I’msoafraid,don’tleavemealoneyet.Phil,please.There’snooneelseIcangoto,you’retheonlyfriendI’veeverhad.”

Hefelttheterrorofhersoul,anditwasstrangelylikethatterrorhehadseeninhisuncle’seyeswhenhefearedthathemightdie.Philiplookeddown.Twicethatwomanhadcomeintohislifeandmadehimwretched;shehadnoclaimuponhim;andyet,heknewnotwhy,deepinhisheartwasastrangeaching;itwasthatwhich,whenhereceivedherletter,hadlefthimnopeacetillheobeyedhersummons.

“IsupposeIshallneverreallyquitegetoverit,”hesaidtohimself.

Whatperplexedhimwasthathefeltacurious

physicaldistaste,whichmadeituncomfortableforhimtobenearher.

“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”heasked.

“Let’sgooutanddinetogether.I’llpay.”

Hehesitated.Hefeltthatshewascreepingbackagainintohislifewhenhethoughtshewasgoneoutofitforever.Shewatchedhimwithsickeninganxiety.

“Oh,IknowI’vetreatedyoushocking,butdon’tleavemealonenow.You’vehadyourrevenge.IfyouleavemebymyselfnowIdon’tknowwhatIshalldo.”

“Allright,Idon’tmind,”hesaid,“butweshallhavetodoitonthecheap,Ihaven’tgotmoneytothrowawaythesedays.”

Shesatdownandputhershoeson,thenchangedherskirtandputonahat;andtheywalkedouttogethertilltheyfoundarestaurantintheTottenhamCourtRoad.Philiphadgotoutofthehabitofeatingatthosehours,andMildred’sthroatwassosorethatshecouldnotswallow.TheyhadalittlecoldhamandPhilipdrankaglassofbeer.Theysatoppositeoneanother,astheyhadsooftensatbefore;hewonderedifsheremembered;theyhadnothingtosaytooneanotherandwouldhavesatinsilenceifPhiliphadnotforcedhimselftotalk.Inthebrightlightoftherestaurant,withitsvulgarlooking-glassesthatreflectedinanendlessseries,shelookedoldandhaggard.Philipwasanxioustoknowaboutthechild,buthehadnotthecouragetoask.Atlastshesaid:

“Youknowbabydiedlastsummer.”

“Oh!”hesaid.

“Youmightsayyou’resorry.”

“I’mnot,”heanswered,“I’mveryglad.”

Sheglancedathimand,understandingwhathemeant,lookedaway

“Youwererarestuckonitatonetime,weren’tyou?Ialwaysthoughtitfunnylikehowyoucouldseesomuchinanotherman’schild.”

Whentheyhadfinishedeatingtheycalledatthechemist’sforthemedicinePhiliphadordered,andgoingbacktotheshabbyroomhemadehertakeadose.ThentheysattogethertillitwastimeforPhiliptogobacktoHarringtonStreet.Hewashideouslybored.

Philipwenttoseehereveryday.Shetookthemedicinehehadprescribedandfollowedhisdirections,andsoontheresultsweresoapparentthatshegainedthegreatestconfidenceinPhilip’sskill.Asshegrewbettershegrewlessdespondent.Shetalkedmorefreely.

“AssoonasIcangetajobIshallbeallright,”shesaid.“I’vehadmylessonnowandImeantoprofitbyit.Nomoreracketingaboutforyourstruly.”

Eachtimehesawher,Philipaskedwhethershehadfoundwork.Shetoldhimnottoworry,shewouldfindsomethingtodoassoonasshewantedit;shehadseveralstringstoherbow;itwasallthebetternottodoanythingforaweekortwo.Hecouldnotdenythis,butattheendofthattimehebecamemoreinsistent.Shelaughedathim,shewasmuchmorecheerfulnow,andsaidhewasafussyoldthing.Shetoldhimlongstoriesofthemanageressessheinterviewed,forherideawastogetworkatsomeeating-house;whattheysaidandwhatsheanswered.Nothingdefinitewasfixed,butshewassuretosettlesomethingatthebeginningofthefollowingweek:therewasnousehurrying,anditwouldbeamistaketotakesomethingunsuitable.

“It’sabsurdtotalklikethat,”hesaidimpatiently.“Youmusttakeanythingyoucanget.Ican’thelpyou,andyourmoneywon’tlastforever.”

“Oh,well,I’venotcometotheendofityetandchanceit.”

Helookedathersharply.Itwasthreeweekssincehisfirstvisit,andshehadthenlessthansevenpounds.Suspicionseizedhim.Herememberedsomeofthe

thingsshehadsaid.Heputtwoandtwotogether.Hewonderedwhethershehadmadeanyattempttofindwork.Perhapsshehadbeenlyingtohimallthetime.Itwasverystrangethathermoneyshouldhavelastedsolong.

“Whatisyourrenthere?”

“Oh,thelandlady’sverynice,differentfromwhatsomeofthemare;she’squitewillingtowaittillit’sconvenientformetopay.”

Hewassilent.Whathesuspectedwassohorriblethathehesitated.Itwasnousetoaskher,shewoulddenyeverything;ifhewantedtoknowhemustfindoutforhimself.Hewasinthehabitofleavinghereveryeveningateight,andwhentheclockstruckhegotup;butinsteadofgoingbacktoHarringtonStreethestationedhimselfatthecornerofFitzroySquaresothathecouldseeanyonewhocamealongWilliamStreet.Itseemedtohimthathewaitedaninterminabletime,andhewasonthepointofgoingaway,thinkinghissurmisehadbeenmistaken,whenthedoorofNo.7openedandMildredcameout.Hefellbackintothedarknessandwatchedherwalktowardshim.Shehadonthehatwithaquantityoffeathersonitwhichhehadseeninherroom,andsheworeadressherecognized,tooshowyforthestreetandunsuitabletothetimeofyear.HefollowedherslowlytillshecameintotheTottenhamCourtRoad,wheresheslackenedherpace;atthecornerofOxfordStreetshestopped,lookedround,andcrossedovertoamusic-hall.Hewentuptoherandtouchedheronthearm.Hesawthatshehadrougedhercheeksandpaintedherlips.

“Whereareyougoing,Mildred?”

Shestartedatthesoundofhisvoiceandreddenedasshealwaysdidwhenshewascaughtinalie;thentheflashofangerwhichheknewsowellcameintohereyesassheinstinctivelysoughttodefendherselfbyabuse.Butshedidnotsaythewordswhichwereonthetipofhertongue.

“Oh,Iwasonlygoingtoseetheshow.Itgivesmethehumpsittingeverynightbymyself.”

Hedidnotpretendtobelieveher.

“Youmustn’t.Goodheavens,I’vetoldyoufiftytimeshowdangerousitis.Youmuststopthissortofthingatonce.”

“Oh,holdyourjaw,”shecriedroughly.“Howd’yousupposeI’mgoingtolive?”

Hetookholdofherarmandwithoutthinkingwhathewasdoingtriedtodragheraway.

“ForGod’ssakecomealong.Letmetakeyouhome.Youdon’tknowwhatyou’redoing.It’scriminal.”

“WhatdoIcare?Letthemtaketheirchance.Menhaven’tbeensogoodtomethatIneedbothermyheadaboutthem.”

Shepushedhimawayandwalkinguptothebox-officeputdownhermoney.Philiphadthreepenceinhispocket.Hecouldnotfollow.HeturnedawayandwalkedslowlydownOxfordStreet.

“Ican’tdoanythingmore,”hesaidtohimself.

Thatwastheend.Hedidnotseeheragain.