“D’you want me to?” he smiled.

“I suppose you don’t care for me in that way any more?”

“I’m very fond of you.”

“You’re much fonder of baby.”

He did not answer, and she laid her cheek against his hand.

“You’re not angry with me any more?” she asked presently, with her eyes cast down.

“Why on earth should I be?”

“I’ve never cared for you as I do now.  It’s only since I passed through the fire that I’ve learnt to love you.”  It chilled Philip to hear her make use of the sort of phrase she read in the penny novelettes which she devoured.  Then he wondered whether what she said had any meaning for her:  perhaps she knew no other way to express her genuine feelings than the stilted language of The Family Herald.

“It seems so funny our living together like this.”

He did not reply for quite a long time, and silence fell upon them again; but at last he spoke and seemed conscious of no interval.

“You mustn’t be angry with me.  One can’t help these things.  I remember that I thought you wicked and cruel because you did this, that, and the other; but it was very silly of me.  You didn’t love me, and it was absurd to blame you for that.  I thought I could make you love me, but I know now that was impossible.  I don’t know what it is that makes someone love you, but whatever it is, it’s the only thing that matters, and if it isn’t there you won’t create it by kindness, or generosity, or anything of that sort.”

“I should have thought if you’d loved me really you’d have loved me still.”

“I should have thought so too.  I remember how I used to think that it would last for ever, I felt I would rather die than be without you, and I used to long for the time when you would be faded and wrinkled so that nobody cared for you any more and I should have you all to myself.”

She did not answer, and presently she got up and said she was going to bed.  She gave a timid little smile.

“It’s Christmas Day, Philip, won’t you kiss me good-night?”

He gave a laugh, blushed slightly, and kissed her.  She went to her bed-room and he began to read.

XCVI

The climax came two or three weeks later.  Mildred was driven by Philip’s behaviour to a pitch of strange exasperation.  There were many different emotions in her soul, and she passed from mood to mood with facility.  She spent a great deal of time alone and brooded over her position.  She did not put all her feelings into words, she did not even know what they were, but certain things stood out in her mind, and she thought of them over and over again.  She had never understood Philip, nor had very much liked him; but she was pleased to have him about her because she thought he was a gentleman.  She was impressed because his father had been a doctor and his uncle was a clergyman.  She despised him a little because she had made such a fool of him, and at the same time was never quite comfortable in his presence; she could not let herself go, and she felt that he was criticising her manners.