come to him, it
was murder that he was meditating; and he wondered if other people had
such thoughts or whether he was abnormal and depraved. He supposed he
could not have done it when it came to the point, but there the thought
was, constantly recurring: if he held his hand it was from fear. His uncle
spoke.

"You're not looking forward to my death, Philip?" Philip felt his heart
beat against his chest.

"Good heavens, no."

"That's a good boy. I shouldn't like you to do that. You'll get a little
bit of money when I pass away, but you mustn't look forward to it. It
wouldn't profit you if you did."

He spoke in a low voice, and there was a curious anxiety in his tone. It
sent a pang into Philip's heart. He wondered what strange insight might
have led the old man to surmise what strange desires were in Philip's
mind.

"I hope you'll live for another twenty years," he said.

"Oh, well, I can't expect to do that, but if I take care of myself I don't
see why I shouldn't last another three or four."

He was silent for a while, and Philip found nothing to say. Then, as if he
had been thinking it all over, the old man spoke again.

"Everyone has the right to live as long as he can."

Philip wanted to distract his mind.

"By the way, I suppose you never hear from Miss Wilkinson now?"

"Yes, I had a letter some time this year. She's married, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, she married a widower. I believe they're quite comfortable."

CXI

Next day Philip began work again, but the end which he expected within a
few weeks did not come. The weeks passed into months. The winter wore
away, and in the parks the trees burst into bud and into leaf. A terrible
lassitude settled upon Philip. Time was passing, though it went with such
heavy feet, and he thought that his youth was going and soon he would have
lost it and nothing would have been accomplished. His work seemed more
aimless now that there was the certainty of his leaving it. He became
skilful in the designing of costumes, and though he had no inventive
faculty acquired quickness in the adaptation of French fashions to the
English market. Sometimes he was not displeased with his drawings, but
they always bungled them in the execution. He was amused to notice that he
suffered from a lively irritation when his ideas were not adequately
carried out. He had to walk warily. Whenever he suggested something
original Mr. Sampson turned it down: their customers did