nderness, carrying on meanwhile a stream of friendly chatter; then he
changed the sheet just as they did at the hospital, shook out the pillow,
and arranged the bed-clothes.

"I should like Sister Arthur to see me. It would make her sit up. Deacon's
coming in to see you early."

"I can't imagine why you should be so good to me," said Philip.

"It's good practice for me. It's rather a lark having a patient."

Griffiths gave him his breakfast and went off to get dressed and have
something to eat. A few minutes before ten he came back with a bunch of
grapes and a few flowers.

"You are awfully kind," said Philip.

He was in bed for five days.

Norah and Griffiths nursed him between them. Though Griffiths was the same
age as Philip he adopted towards him a humorous, motherly attitude. He was
a thoughtful fellow, gentle and encouraging; but his greatest quality was
a vitality which seemed to give health to everyone with whom he came in
contact. Philip was unused to the petting which most people enjoy from
mothers or sisters and he was deeply touched by the feminine tenderness of
this strong young man. Philip grew better. Then Griffiths, sitting idly in
Philip's room, amused him with gay stories of amorous adventure. He was a
flirtatious creature, capable of carrying on three or four affairs at a
time; and his account of the devices he was forced to in order to keep out
of difficulties made excellent hearing. He had a gift for throwing a
romantic glamour over everything that happened to him. He was crippled
with debts, everything he had of any value was pawned, but he managed
always to be cheerful, extravagant, and generous. He was the adventurer by
nature. He loved people of doubtful occupations and shifty purposes; and
his acquaintance among the riff-raff that frequents the bars of London was
enormous. Loose women, treating him as a friend, told him the troubles,
difficulties, and successes of their lives; and card-sharpers, respecting
his impecuniosity, stood him dinners and lent him five-pound notes. He was
ploughed in his examinations time after time; but he bore this cheerfully,
and submitted with such a charming grace to the parental expostulations
that his father, a doctor in practice at Leeds, had not the heart to be
seriously angry with him.

"I'm an awful fool at books," he said cheerfully, "but I CAN'T work."

Life was much too jolly. But it was clear that when he had got through the
exuberance of his you