to leave them by themselves.

"I'll come too," said Griffiths. "I've got rather a thirst on."

"Oh, nonsense, you stay and talk to Mildred."

Philip did not know why he said that. He was throwing them together now to
make the pain he suffered more intolerable. He did not go to the bar, but
up into the balcony, from where he could watch them and not be seen. They
had ceased to look at the stage and were smiling into one another's eyes.
Griffiths was talking with his usual happy fluency and Mildred seemed to
hang on his lips. Philip's head began to ache frightfully. He stood there
motionless. He knew he would be in the way if he went back. They were
enjoying themselves without him, and he was suffering, suffering. Time
passed, and now he had an extraordinary shyness about rejoining them. He
knew they had not thought of him at all, and he reflected bitterly that he
had paid for the dinner and their seats in the music-hall. What a fool
they were making of him! He was hot with shame. He could see how happy
they were without him. His instinct was to leave them to themselves and go
home, but he had not his hat and coat, and it would necessitate endless
explanations. He went back. He felt a shadow of annoyance in Mildred's
eyes when she saw him, and his heart sank.

"You've been a devil of a time," said Griffiths, with a smile of welcome.

"I met some men I knew. I've been talking to them, and I couldn't get
away. I thought you'd be all right together."

"I've been enjoying myself thoroughly," said Griffiths. "I don't know
about Mildred."

She gave a little laugh of happy complacency. There was a vulgar sound in
the ring of it that horrified Philip. He suggested that they should go.

"Come on," said Griffiths, "we'll both drive you home."

Philip suspected that she had suggested that arrangement so that she might
not be left alone with him. In the cab he did not take her hand nor did
she offer it, and he knew all the time that she was holding Griffiths'.
His chief thought was that it was all so horribly vulgar. As they drove
along he asked himself what plans they had made to meet without his
knowledge, he cursed himself for having left them alone, he had actually
gone out of his way to enable them to arrange things.

"Let's keep the cab," said Philip, when they reached the house in which
Mildred was lodging. "I'm too tired to walk home."

On the way back Griffiths talked gaily and seemed indifferent to the fact
that