quite
seriously of committing suicide. It all seemed very long ago. He smiled at
his past self. Now he felt nothing for Mildred but infinite pity. They
reached the house, and when they got into the sitting-room Philip lit the
gas.

"Is the baby all right?" he asked.

"I'll just go in and see."

When she came back it was to say that it had not stirred since she left
it. It was a wonderful child. Philip held out his hand.

"Well, good-night."

"D'you want to go to bed already?"

"It's nearly one. I'm not used to late hours these days," said Philip.

She took his hand and holding it looked into his eyes with a little smile.

"Phil, the other night in that room, when you asked me to come and stay
here, I didn't mean what you thought I meant, when you said you didn't
want me to be anything to you except just to cook and that sort of thing."

"Didn't you?" answered Philip, withdrawing his hand. "I did."

"Don't be such an old silly," she laughed.

He shook his head.

"I meant it quite seriously. I shouldn't have asked you to stay here on
any other condition."

"Why not?"

"I feel I couldn't. I can't explain it, but it would spoil it all."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, very well, it's just as you choose. I'm not one to go down on my
hands and knees for that, and chance it."

She went out, slamming the door behind her.

XCIII

Next morning Mildred was sulky and taciturn. She remained in her room till
it was time to get the dinner ready. She was a bad cook and could do
little more than chops and steaks; and she did not know how to use up odds
and ends, so that Philip was obliged to spend more money than he had
expected. When she served up she sat down opposite Philip, but would eat
nothing; he remarked on it; she said she had a bad headache and was not
hungry. He was glad that he had somewhere to spend the rest of the day;
the Athelnys were cheerful and friendly. It was a delightful and an
unexpected thing to realise that everyone in that household looked forward
with pleasure to his visit. Mildred had gone to bed when he came back, but
next day she was still silent. At supper she sat with a haughty expression
on her face and a little frown between her eyes. It made Philip impatient,
but he told himself that he must be considerate to her; he was bound to
make allowance.

"You're very silent," he said, with a pleasant smile.

"I'm paid to cook and clean, I didn't know I was expected to talk