I've treated you shocking, but don't leave me alone now.
You've had your revenge. If you leave me by myself now I don't know what
I shall do."

"All right, I don't mind," he said, "but we shall have to do it on the
cheap, I haven't got money to throw away these days."

She sat down and put her shoes on, then changed her skirt and put on a
hat; and they walked out together till they found a restaurant in the
Tottenham Court Road. Philip had got out of the habit of eating at those
hours, and Mildred's throat was so sore that she could not swallow. They
had a little cold ham and Philip drank a glass of beer. They sat opposite
one another, as they had so often sat before; he wondered if she
remembered; they had nothing to say to one another and would have sat in
silence if Philip had not forced himself to talk. In the bright light of
the restaurant, with its vulgar looking-glasses that reflected in an
endless series, she looked old and haggard. Philip was anxious to know
about the child, but he had not the courage to ask. At last she said:

"You know baby died last summer."

"Oh!" he said.

"You might say you're sorry."

"I'm not," he answered, "I'm very glad."

She glanced at him and, understanding what he meant, looked away

"You were rare stuck on it at one time, weren't you? I always thought it
funny like how you could see so much in another man's child."

When they had finished eating they called at the chemist's for the
medicine Philip had ordered, and going back to the shabby room he made her
take a dose. Then they sat together till it was time for Philip to go back
to Harrington Street. He was hideously bored.

Philip went to see her every day. She took the medicine he had prescribed
and followed his directions, and soon the results were so apparent that
she gained the greatest confidence in Philip's skill. As she grew better
she grew less despondent. She talked more freely.

"As soon as I can get a job I shall be all right," she said. "I've had my
lesson now and I mean to profit by it. No more racketing about for yours
truly."

Each time he saw her, Philip asked whether she had found work. She told
him not to worry, she would find something to do as soon as she wanted it;
she had several strings to her bow; it was all the better not to do
anything for a week or two. He could not deny this, but at the end of that
time he became more insistent. She laughed at him, she was much more
cheerful now, and sai