he had had little peace.

"Well, sir, what can I do?" she answered. "The poor old gentleman's so
dependent on me, and, although he is troublesome sometimes, you can't help
liking him, can you? I've been here so many years now, I don't know what
I shall do when he comes to go."

Philip saw that she was really fond of the old man. She washed and dressed
him, gave him his food, and was up half a dozen times in the night; for
she slept in the next room to his and whenever he awoke he tinkled his
little bell till she came in. He might die at any moment, but he might
live for months. It was wonderful that she should look after a stranger
with such patient tenderness, and it was tragic and pitiful that she
should be alone in the world to care for him.

It seemed to Philip that the religion which his uncle had preached all his
life was now of no more than formal importance to him: every Sunday the
curate came and administered to him Holy Communion, and he often read his
Bible; but it was clear that he looked upon death with horror. He believed
that it was the gateway to life everlasting, but he did not want to enter
upon that life. In constant pain, chained to his chair and having given up
the hope of ever getting out into the open again, like a child in the
hands of a woman to whom he paid wages, he clung to the world he knew.

In Philip's head was a question he could not ask, because he was aware
that his uncle would never give any but a conventional answer: he wondered
whether at the very end, now that the machine was painfully wearing itself
out, the clergyman still believed in immortality; perhaps at the bottom of
his soul, not allowed to shape itself into words in case it became urgent,
was the conviction that there was no God and after this life nothing.

On the evening of Boxing Day Philip sat in the dining-room with his uncle.
He had to start very early next morning in order to get to the shop by
nine, and he was to say good-night to Mr. Carey then. The Vicar of
Blackstable was dozing and Philip, lying on the sofa by the window, let
his book fall on his knees and looked idly round the room. He asked
himself how much the furniture would fetch. He had walked round the house
and looked at the things he had known from his childhood; there were a few
pieces of china which might go for a decent price and Philip wondered if
it would be worth while to take them up to London; but the furniture was
of the Victorian order, of