mise you it never made any difference to me. I never thought about
it after the first day or two."

He kept a gloomy, tragic silence. He wanted her to think he was overcome
with emotion.

"You know I like you awfully, Philip. Only you are so trying sometimes.
Let's make it up."

She put up her lips to his, and with a sigh of relief he kissed her.

"Now are you happy again?" she asked.

"Madly."

She bade him good-night and hurried down the road. Next day he took her in
a little watch with a brooch to pin on her dress. She had been hankering
for it.

But three or four days later, when she brought him his tea, Mildred said
to him:

"You remember what you promised the other night? You mean to keep that,
don't you?"

"Yes."

He knew exactly what she meant and was prepared for her next words.

"Because I'm going out with that gentleman I told you about tonight."

"All right. I hope you'll enjoy yourself."

"You don't mind, do you?"

He had himself now under excellent control.

"I don't like it," he smiled, "but I'm not going to make myself more
disagreeable than I can help."

She was excited over the outing and talked about it willingly. Philip
wondered whether she did so in order to pain him or merely because she was
callous. He was in the habit of condoning her cruelty by the thought of
her stupidity. She had not the brains to see when she was wounding him.

"It's not much fun to be in love with a girl who has no imagination and no
sense of humour," he thought, as he listened.

But the want of these things excused her. He felt that if he had not
realised this he could never forgive her for the pain she caused him.

"He's got seats for the Tivoli," she said. "He gave me my choice and I
chose that. And we're going to dine at the Cafe Royal. He says it's the
most expensive place in London."

"He's a gentleman in every sense of the word," thought Philip, but he
clenched his teeth to prevent himself from uttering a syllable.

Philip went to the Tivoli and saw Mildred with her companion, a
smooth-faced young man with sleek hair and the spruce look of a commercial
traveller, sitting in the second row of the stalls. Mildred wore a black
picture hat with ostrich feathers in it, which became her well. She was
listening to her host with that quiet smile which Philip knew; she had no
vivacity of expression, and it required broad farce to excite her
laughter; but Philip could see that she was interested and a