“I don’t see why not, if I’m willing,” he said.

“That’s what I told him.”

“I should have thought if he really wanted to go he wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Oh, it’s not that, he wants to all right.  He’d go at once if he had the money.”

“If he’s squeamish about it I’ll give you the money.”

“I said you’d lend it if he liked, and we’d pay it back as soon as we could.”

“It’s rather a change for you going on your knees to get a man to take you away for a week-end.”

“It is rather, isn’t it?” she said, with a shameless little laugh.  It sent a cold shudder down Philip’s spine.

“What are you going to do then?” he asked.

“Nothing.  He’s going home tomorrow.  He must.”

That would be Philip’s salvation.  With Griffiths out of the way he could get Mildred back.  She knew no one in London, she would be thrown on to his society, and when they were alone together he could soon make her forget this infatuation.  If he said nothing more he was safe.  But he had a fiendish desire to break down their scruples, he wanted to know how abominably they could behave towards him; if he tempted them a little more they would yield, and he took a fierce joy at the thought of their dishonour.  Though every word he spoke tortured him, he found in the torture a horrible delight.

“It looks as if it were now or never.”

“That’s what I told him,” she said.

There was a passionate note in her voice which struck Philip.  He was biting his nails in his nervousness.

“Where were you thinking of going?”

“Oh, to Oxford.  He was at the ’Varsity there, you know.  He said he’d show me the colleges.”

Philip remembered that once he had suggested going to Oxford for the day, and she had expressed firmly the boredom she felt at the thought of sights.

“And it looks as if you’d have fine weather.  It ought to be very jolly there just now.”

“I’ve done all I could to persuade him.”

“Why don’t you have another try?”

“Shall I say you want us to go?”

“I don’t think you must go as far as that,” said Philip.

She paused for a minute or two, looking at him.  Philip forced himself to look at her in a friendly way.  He hated her, he despised her, he loved her with all his heart.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll go and see if he can’t arrange it.  And then, if he says yes, I’ll come and fetch the money tomorrow.  When shall you be in?”

“I’ll come back here after luncheon and wait.”

“All right.”

“I’ll give you the money for your dress and your room now.”

He went to his desk and took out what money he had.  The dress was six guineas; there was besides her rent and her food, and the baby’s keep for a week.  He gave her eight pounds ten.

“Thanks very much,” she said.

She left him.