“I don’t know what sense of humour’s got to do with it.  I’ve got a good mind to take them down myself.  If you want to know what I think about them, I think they’re disgusting.”

“I don’t want to know what you think about them, and I forbid you to touch them.”

When Mildred was cross with him she punished him through the baby.  The little girl was as fond of Philip as he was of her, and it was her great pleasure every morning to crawl into his room (she was getting on for two now and could walk pretty well), and be taken up into his bed.  When Mildred stopped this the poor child would cry bitterly.  To Philip’s remonstrances she replied: 

“I don’t want her to get into habits.”

And if then he said anything more she said: 

“It’s nothing to do with you what I do with my child.  To hear you talk one would think you was her father.  I’m her mother, and I ought to know what’s good for her, oughtn’t I?”

Philip was exasperated by Mildred’s stupidity; but he was so indifferent to her now that it was only at times she made him angry.  He grew used to having her about.  Christmas came, and with it a couple of days holiday for Philip.  He brought some holly in and decorated the flat, and on Christmas Day he gave small presents to Mildred and the baby.  There were only two of them so they could not have a turkey, but Mildred roasted a chicken and boiled a Christmas pudding which she had bought at a local grocer’s.  They stood themselves a bottle of wine.  When they had dined Philip sat in his arm-chair by the fire, smoking his pipe; and the unaccustomed wine had made him forget for a while the anxiety about money which was so constantly with him.  He felt happy and comfortable.  Presently Mildred came in to tell him that the baby wanted him to kiss her good-night, and with a smile he went into Mildred’s bed-room.  Then, telling the child to go to sleep, he turned down the gas and, leaving the door open in case she cried, went back into the sitting-room.

“Where are you going to sit?” he asked Mildred.

“You sit in your chair.  I’m going to sit on the floor.”

When he sat down she settled herself in front of the fire and leaned against his knees.  He could not help remembering that this was how they had sat together in her rooms in the Vauxhall Bridge Road, but the positions had been reversed; it was he who had sat on the floor and leaned his head against her knee.  How passionately he had loved her then!  Now he felt for her a tenderness he had not known for a long time.  He seemed still to feel twined round his neck the baby’s soft little arms.

“Are you comfy?” he asked.

She looked up at him, gave a slight smile, and nodded.  They gazed into the fire dreamily, without speaking to one another.  At last she turned round and stared at him curiously.

“D’you know that you haven’t kissed me once since I came here?” she said suddenly.