hitis in
the old. A severe winter might be too much for the old man. With all his
heart Philip longed for cold and rain. He thought of it constantly, so
that it became a monomania. Uncle William was affected by the great heat
too, and in August they had three weeks of sweltering weather. Philip
imagined to himself that one day perhaps a telegram would come saying that
the Vicar had died suddenly, and he pictured to himself his unutterable
relief. As he stood at the top of the stairs and directed people to the
departments they wanted, he occupied his mind with thinking incessantly
what he would do with the money. He did not know how much it would be,
perhaps no more than five hundred pounds, but even that would be enough.
He would leave the shop at once, he would not bother to give notice, he
would pack his box and go without saying a word to anybody; and then he
would return to the hospital. That was the first thing. Would he have
forgotten much? In six months he could get it all back, and then he would
take his three examinations as soon as he could, midwifery first, then
medicine and surgery. The awful fear seized him that his uncle,
notwithstanding his promises, might leave everything he had to the parish
or the church. The thought made Philip sick. He could not be so cruel. But
if that happened Philip was quite determined what to do, he would not go
on in that way indefinitely; his life was only tolerable because he could
look forward to something better. If he had no hope he would have no fear.
The only brave thing to do then would be to commit suicide, and, thinking
this over too, Philip decided minutely what painless drug he would take
and how he would get hold of it. It encouraged him to think that, if
things became unendurable, he had at all events a way out.

"Second to the right, madam, and down the stairs. First on the left and
straight through. Mr. Philips, forward please."

Once a month, for a week, Philip was 'on duty.' He had to go to the
department at seven in the morning and keep an eye on the sweepers. When
they finished he had to take the sheets off the cases and the models.
Then, in the evening when the assistants left, he had to put back the
sheets on the models and the cases and 'gang' the sweepers again. It was
a dusty, dirty job. He was not allowed to read or write or smoke, but just
had to walk about, and the time hung heavily on his hands. When he went
off at half past nine he had supper given