“That’ll do me a fat lot of good.”

Again Philip found nothing to say.  He was desperately afraid of saying anything which she might take for a reproach or a sneer.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked at last.

“I’ve got her with me in London.  I hadn’t got the money to keep her on at Brighton, so I had to take her.  I’ve got a room up Highbury way.  I told them I was on the stage.  It’s a long way to have to come down to the West End every day, but it’s a rare job to find anyone who’ll let to ladies at all.”

“Wouldn’t they take you back at the shop?”

“I couldn’t get any work to do anywhere.  I walked my legs off looking for work.  I did get a job once, but I was off for a week because I was queer, and when I went back they said they didn’t want me any more.  You can’t blame them either, can you?  Them places, they can’t afford to have girls that aren’t strong.”

“You don’t look very well now,” said Philip.

“I wasn’t fit to come out tonight, but I couldn’t help myself, I wanted the money.  I wrote to Emil and told him I was broke, but he never even answered the letter.”

“You might have written to me.”

“I didn’t like to, not after what happened, and I didn’t want you to know I was in difficulties.  I shouldn’t have been surprised if you’d just told me I’d only got what I deserved.”

“You don’t know me very well, do you, even now?”

For a moment he remembered all the anguish he had suffered on her account, and he was sick with the recollection of his pain.  But it was no more than recollection.  When he looked at her he knew that he no longer loved her.  He was very sorry for her, but he was glad to be free.  Watching her gravely, he asked himself why he had been so besotted with passion for her.

“You’re a gentleman in every sense of the word,” she said.  “You’re the only one I’ve ever met.”  She paused for a minute and then flushed.  “I hate asking you, Philip, but can you spare me anything?”

“It’s lucky I’ve got some money on me.  I’m afraid I’ve only got two pounds.”

He gave her the sovereigns.

“I’ll pay you back, Philip.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” he smiled.  “You needn’t worry.”

He had said nothing that he wanted to say.  They had talked as if the whole thing were natural; and it looked as though she would go now, back to the horror of her life, and he would be able to do nothing to prevent it.  She had got up to take the money, and they were both standing.

“Am I keeping you?” she asked.  “I suppose you want to be getting home.”

“No, I’m in no hurry,” he answered.

“I’m glad to have a chance of sitting down.”

Those words, with all they implied, tore his heart, and it was dreadfully painful to see the weary way in which she sank back into the chair.  The silence lasted so long that Philip in his embarrassment lit a cigarette.