pace with her. Then, turning into Charlotte Road, with its leafless polled chestnuts, she decided to walk slower. Why should she have to run away from anyone? Perhaps he had something to tell her about Phillip. Perhaps he had not been drunk, after all, but only ill. Impossible. There was nothing the matter with him—except that he was going the way of Uncle Hugh. Poor Mother! Father bullying her on one hand, Phillip destroying her peaceof mind on the other. Mother was a saint. Her whole life had been given to her husband and her son, and both treated her shabbily. Men were utterly selfish. Grandpa had knocked her down when he had found out about her secret marriage to Father, when she was carrying Phillip; and she had been unconscious for hours, in a kind of fit. And now Phillip was showing himself just as bad as Father, and in his time, Grandpa.
What did Ching want to say to her this time? The usual grovelling?
She allowed him to overtake her just before the turn up Hillside Road. It would be better there, than outside the house.
He took off his bowler hat, and stood before her. At first he could not speak. She heard him swallowing, and felt calm. But if he tried to kiss her suddenly, she would poke him with her umbrella—one of the new three-quarter size models, called The Gay Paree, price four and eleven three in Beeveman’s Store near the Obelisk. Mavis had borrowed the money from her mother to buy it, and Hetty, after protest, had made her promise to pay the money back next salary day, for the money was out of the housekeeping, and food was now very expensive, she said. Mavis had paid it back, reluctantly, then borrowed it again the next day to pay for her lunches.
“Mavis, I humbly beg your pardon for accosting you like this. Will you forgive me?”
“What, are you tipsy too?”
“I swear it was none of my doing! I was only being a good Samaritan. Phillip was overcome by gas.”
“By whiskey, you mean!”
“Well, only a very little. Please, Mavis, do not judge him!”
“You mean you don’t want me to judge you, I suppose?”
“Oh, I do not matter at all. It is for Phillip that I hasten to plead. He is not well. He has a lesion on one lung.”
“Who told you, I should like to know?”
“I heard it on high authority.”
“Don’t tell me it was that Dr. Dashwood!” she cried derisively. “We all know what he is!”
Ching said humbly. “It may be a matter of grave concern. Even of life and death.”
“I bet! What is it, then?”
Encouraged by her matter-of-fact manner, Ching felt easier in himself, and correspondingly flummoxed about what he could say. He pretended.
“Well, the high authority is Phillip himself. After all, it is a matter of life and death to him.”
Mavis laughed. “Pooh, I don’t believe you know what you’re talking about, Ching!”
“As a matter of fact, I do. It concerns the love of his life.”
“Oh, that old thing! That is only his pretence! Besides, Helena Rolls cares nothing for him. Why should she? His talk about eternal love is entirely one-sided! So one-sided, in fact, that it doesn’t stop him from going after at least one other girl.”
“I never have, I swear,” said Ching hoarsely. He clasped his hands. “Mavis—Mavis——”
“I know that you’re only pretending, you know! Why do you?”
“Please don’t be unkind,” he groaned. “I can’t help feeling—as I do. Can’t we be just friends? Oh please—that’s all I ask—I know I’m no good—please don’t be angry——” Ching, to his remote satisfaction, managed to break into tears.
For a moment Mavis was shocked in a way that surprised her. Her mood of brittle scorn fell away, and she felt that Ching was part of the sadness of the world. There was only one way by which one’s personal sorrows could be harmonised with those of the world.
“Do you mind if I say something to you, Ching?”
“Yes, Mavis, of course, of course, anything!”
“Go and see Father Aloysius at