Next day, in the afternoon, Philip sat in his room and wondered whether Mildred would come.  He had slept badly.  He had spent the morning in the club of the Medical School, reading one newspaper after another.  It was the vacation and few students he knew were in London, but he found one or two people to talk to, he played a game of chess, and so wore out the tedious hours.  After luncheon he felt so tired, his head was aching so, that he went back to his lodgings and lay down; he tried to read a novel.  He had not seen Griffiths.  He was not in when Philip returned the night before; he heard him come back, but he did not as usual look into Philip’s room to see if he was asleep; and in the morning Philip heard him go out early.  It was clear that he wanted to avoid him.  Suddenly there was a light tap at his door.  Philip sprang to his feet and opened it.  Mildred stood on the threshold.  She did not move.

“Come in,” said Philip.

He closed the door after her.  She sat down.  She hesitated to begin.

“Thank you for giving me that two shillings last night,” she said.

“Oh, that’s all right.”

She gave him a faint smile.  It reminded Philip of the timid, ingratiating look of a puppy that has been beaten for naughtiness and wants to reconcile himself with his master.

“I’ve been lunching with Harry,” she said.

“Have you?”

“If you still want me to go away with you on Saturday, Philip, I’ll come.”

A quick thrill of triumph shot through his heart, but it was a sensation that only lasted an instant; it was followed by a suspicion.

“Because of the money?” he asked.

“Partly,” she answered simply.  “Harry can’t do anything.  He owes five weeks here, and he owes you seven pounds, and his tailor’s pressing him for money.  He’d pawn anything he could, but he’s pawned everything already.  I had a job to put the woman off about my new dress, and on Saturday there’s the book at my lodgings, and I can’t get work in five minutes.  It always means waiting some little time till there’s a vacancy.”

She said all this in an even, querulous tone, as though she were recounting the injustices of fate, which had to be borne as part of the natural order of things.  Philip did not answer.  He knew what she told him well enough.

“You said partly,” he observed at last.

“Well, Harry says you’ve been a brick to both of us.  You’ve been a real good friend to him, he says, and you’ve done for me what p’raps no other man would have done.  We must do the straight thing, he says.  And he said what you said about him, that he’s fickle by nature, he’s not like you, and I should be a fool to throw you away for him.  He won’t last and you will, he says so himself.”

“D’you want to come away with me?” asked Philip.

“I don’t mind.”

He looked at her, and the corners of his mouth turned down in an expression of misery.  He had triumphed indeed, and he was going to have his way.  He gave a little laugh of derision at his own humiliation.  She looked at him quickly, but did not speak.