est little woman;
and Mildred, he thought bitterly, deserved none of these epithets. If he
had any sense he would stick to Norah, she would make him much happier
than he would ever be with Mildred: after all she loved him, and Mildred
was only grateful for his help. But when all was said the important thing
was to love rather than to be loved; and he yearned for Mildred with his
whole soul. He would sooner have ten minutes with her than a whole
afternoon with Norah, he prized one kiss of her cold lips more than all
Norah could give him.

"I can't help myself," he thought. "I've just got her in my bones."

He did not care if she was heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid and
grasping, he loved her. He would rather have misery with the one than
happiness with the other.

When he got up to go Norah said casually:

"Well, I shall see you tomorrow, shan't I?"

"Yes," he answered.

He knew that he would not be able to come, since he was going to help
Mildred with her moving, but he had not the courage to say so. He made up
his mind that he would send a wire. Mildred saw the rooms in the morning,
was satisfied with them, and after luncheon Philip went up with her to
Highbury. She had a trunk for her clothes and another for the various odds
and ends, cushions, lampshades, photograph frames, with which she had
tried to give the apartments a home-like air; she had two or three large
cardboard boxes besides, but in all there was no more than could be put on
the roof of a four-wheeler. As they drove through Victoria Street Philip
sat well back in the cab in case Norah should happen to be passing. He had
not had an opportunity to telegraph and could not do so from the post
office in the Vauxhall Bridge Road, since she would wonder what he was
doing in that neighbourhood; and if he was there he could have no excuse
for not going into the neighbouring square where she lived. He made up his
mind that he had better go in and see her for half an hour; but the
necessity irritated him: he was angry with Norah, because she forced him
to vulgar and degrading shifts. But he was happy to be with Mildred. It
amused him to help her with the unpacking; and he experienced a charming
sense of possession in installing her in these lodgings which he had found
and was paying for. He would not let her exert herself. It was a pleasure
to do things for her, and she had no desire to do what somebody else
seemed desirous to do for her. He unpacked her