Chapter 105
"I left it open on purpose, I can't think how it came to be shut."
"Hurry up and get back to bed, or you'll catch cold."
He walked into the sitting-room and turned up the gas. She followed him in. She went up to the fire.
"I want to warm my feet a bit. They're like ice."
He sat down and began to take off his boots. His eyes were s.h.i.+ning and his cheeks were flushed. She thought he had been drinking.
"Have you been enjoying yourself?" she asked, with a smile.
"Yes, I've had a ripping time."
Philip was quite sober, but he had been talking and laughing, and he was excited still. An evening of that sort reminded him of the old days in Paris. He was in high spirits. He took his pipe out of his pocket and filled it.
"Aren't you going to bed?" she asked.
"Not yet, I'm not a bit sleepy. Lawson was in great form. He talked sixteen to the dozen from the moment I got there till the moment I left."
"What did you talk about?"
"Heaven knows! Of every subject under the sun. You should have seen us all shouting at the tops of our voices and n.o.body listening."
Philip laughed with pleasure at the recollection, and Mildred laughed too.
She was pretty sure he had drunk more than was good for him. That was exactly what she had expected. She knew men.
"Can I sit down?" she said.
Before he could answer she settled herself on his knees.
"If you're not going to bed you'd better go and put on a dressing-gown."
"Oh, I'm all right as I am." Then putting her arms round his neck, she placed her face against his and said: "Why are you so horrid to me, Phil?"
He tried to get up, but she would not let him.
"I do love you, Philip," she said.
"Don't talk d.a.m.ned rot."
"It isn't, it's true. I can't live without you. I want you."
He released himself from her arms.
"Please get up. You're making a fool of yourself and you're making me feel a perfect idiot."
"I love you, Philip. I want to make up for all the harm I did you. I can't go on like this, it's not in human nature."
He slipped out
"I'm very sorry, but it's too late."
She gave a heart-rending sob.
"But why? How can you be so cruel?"
"I suppose it's because I loved you too much. I wore the pa.s.sion out. The thought of anything of that sort horrifies me. I can't look at you now without thinking of Emil and Griffiths. One can't help those things, I suppose it's just nerves."
She seized his hand and covered it with kisses.
"Don't," he cried.
She sank back into the chair.
"I can't go on like this. If you won't love me, I'd rather go away."
"Don't be foolish, you haven't anywhere to go. You can stay here as long as you like, but it must be on the definite understanding that we're friends and nothing more."
Then she dropped suddenly the vehemence of pa.s.sion and gave a soft, insinuating laugh. She sidled up to Philip and put her arms round him. She made her voice low and wheedling.
"Don't be such an old silly. I believe you're nervous. You don't know how nice I can be."
She put her face against his and rubbed his cheek with hers. To Philip her smile was an abominable leer, and the suggestive glitter of her eyes filled him with horror. He drew back instinctively.
"I won't," he said.
But she would not let him go. She sought his mouth with her lips. He took her hands and tore them roughly apart and pushed her away.
"You disgust me," he said.
"Me?"
She steadied herself with one hand on the chimney-piece. She looked at him for an instant, and two red spots suddenly appeared on her cheeks. She gave a shrill, angry laugh.
"I disgust YOU."
She paused and drew in her breath sharply. Then she burst into a furious torrent of abuse. She shouted at the top of her voice. She called him every foul name she could think of. She used language so obscene that Philip was astounded; she was always so anxious to be refined, so shocked by coa.r.s.eness, that it had never occurred to him that she knew the words she used now. She came up to him and thrust her face in his. It was distorted with pa.s.sion, and in her tumultuous speech the spittle dribbled over her lips.
"I never cared for you, not once, I was making a fool of you always, you bored me, you bored me stiff, and I hated you, I would never have let you touch me only for the money, and it used to make me sick when I had to let you kiss me. We laughed at you, Griffiths and me, we laughed because you was such a mug. A mug! A mug!"
Then she burst again into abominable invective. She accused him of every mean fault; she said he was stingy, she said he was dull, she said he was vain, selfish; she cast virulent ridicule on everything upon which he was most sensitive. And at last she turned to go. She kept on, with hysterical violence, shouting at him an opprobrious, filthy epithet. She seized the handle of the door and flung it open. Then she turned round and hurled at him the injury which she knew was the only one that really touched him.
She threw into the word all the malice and all the venom of which she was capable. She flung it at him as though it were a blow.
"Cripple!"
XCVII