on which the window was
dressed, with a terror that made him awake at five o'clock and lie
sleepless with sickness in his heart. The girls in the department noticed
his shamefaced way, and they very soon discovered his trick of standing
with his back to the street. They laughed at him and called him 'sidey.'

"I suppose you're afraid your aunt'll come along and cut you out of her
will."

On the whole he got on well enough with the girls. They thought him a
little queer; but his club-foot seemed to excuse his not being like the
rest, and they found in due course that he was good-natured. He never
minded helping anyone, and he was polite and even tempered.

"You can see he's a gentleman," they said.

"Very reserved, isn't he?" said one young woman, to whose passionate
enthusiasm for the theatre he had listened unmoved.

Most of them had 'fellers,' and those who hadn't said they had rather than
have it supposed that no one had an inclination for them. One or two
showed signs of being willing to start a flirtation with Philip, and he
watched their manoeuvres with grave amusement. He had had enough of
love-making for some time; and he was nearly always tired and often
hungry.

CVI

Philip avoided the places he had known in happier times. The little
gatherings at the tavern in Beak Street were broken up: Macalister, having
let down his friends, no longer went there, and Hayward was at the Cape.
Only Lawson remained; and Philip, feeling that now the painter and he had
nothing in common, did not wish to see him; but one Saturday afternoon,
after dinner, having changed his clothes he walked down Regent Street to
go to the free library in St. Martin's Lane, meaning to spend the
afternoon there, and suddenly found himself face to face with him. His
first instinct was to pass on without a word, but Lawson did not give him
the opportunity.

"Where on earth have you been all this time?" he cried.

"I?" said Philip.

"I wrote you and asked you to come to the studio for a beano and you never
even answered."

"I didn't get your letter."

"No, I know. I went to the hospital to ask for you, and I saw my letter in
the rack. Have you chucked the Medical?"

Philip hesitated for a moment. He was ashamed to tell the truth, but the
shame he felt angered him, and he forced himself to speak. He could not
help reddening.

"Yes, I lost the little money I had. I couldn't afford to go on with it."

"I say, I'm awfully sorry.